


Dancing With Our Hands Tied

by somefeministtheatrepls



Category: Glee
Genre: Bride Wars AU, Friends to Lovers, Like lots of it, M/M, Movie AU, Pining, Slow Burn, Wedding Planning, also, and of course kurt and blaine are idiots, eventual klaine i promise, sabotage shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 45,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28394646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somefeministtheatrepls/pseuds/somefeministtheatrepls
Summary: Kurt, Blaine and Rachel grew up on the same street, best friends practically since birth, obsessed with planning their dream weddings and their futures. So of course, when it comes time to execute, it decidedly does not go smoothly.Bride Wars AU, though not how you think.
Relationships: Blaine Anderson/Kurt Hummel
Comments: 27
Kudos: 53





	1. Prologue - First, there was light

**Author's Note:**

> this was born out of that time Aly wouldn't stop fancasting rom-coms as Klaine. we ended up watching the movie and this story lived in my head rent free. so yes, it's very much a Bride Wars AU. if you've seen the movie, you will undoubtedly recognize all the beats. if you haven't seen the movie, it's pretty solid and you should, but also it's definitely not required. 
> 
> yes, it is titled after a Taylor Swift song. it's not super connected to the song itself, but you can check out the [ acoustic version from the rep tour ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yk-3XX7140A&list=WL&index=9&ab_channel=TaylorVideoArchives) because it's the vibe.
> 
> once again, thank you to Aly and EJ for not only seeing this baby through and actually encouraging me to actually write it, but also hyping me up every single time i mentioned ANYTHING about it. 
> 
> enjoy!

**Prologue**

“First, there was light” 

They were in the Berry’s attic, though it was so well decorated no one would have ever guessed. Blaine had stood on a ladder, taping white tulle and string lights as far up the walls as he could reach. Rachel had been in charge of the flowers, a really important job, and she had managed to fill the entire room with dozens upon dozens of daisies and baby’s breath. Kurt, of course, had been in charge of the costumes. He always was. 

Rachel always insisted she get dressed by herself, so Kurt and Blaine had stayed in the attic to get changed before the big ceremony. 

“It’s not fair, she always gets the dress!” Kurt mumbled, fiddling with his near-perfect bowtie. There wasn’t a perfect fit, of course there couldn’t be — Rachel had insisted Kurt wear his father’s suit, and Kurt would always be smaller than his father. 

“At least you _get_ to get married, she only ever lets me be the flower girl,” Blaine commiserated, gesturing to his basket. 

They weren’t real petals, of course, they’d learned that the hard way. Do a few weddings in the attic and you, too, will know how much of a bother it is to clean freshly dying rose petals off a musty wooden floor. The Berry’s hadn’t minded the smell, but the _mess_? Not even the kids’ adorable, seven-year-old faces could save them from the time out. 

* * *

The wedding obsession started about a year ago. I can tell you this for a fact, I watched it happen! 

It was an uncharacteristically cold April day, and the Berry’s had taken all three kids on an expedition to New York City. The Andersons were on a college tour out West with Cooper, and Hiram had convinced the Hummels to take a second honeymoon — god knows Lizzie and Burt deserved it with how often they watched the kids — while they took Kurt, Blaine and Rachel to see one Miss Shelby Corcoran’s starring turn as Miss Honey in a production of _Matilda, the Musical_. On Broadway, you see. Oh, Rachel had been so excited! She’d known her mom was beautiful, she’d known her mom was amazing, but seeing it, and seeing everybody in the crowd agree with her? And seeing her mom so kind, so stellar, so warm and loving? She just couldn’t get it out of her head.

Now, others would say Hiram and LeRoy taking the kids to tea at the Plaza was happenstance. A coincidence. Something they did on a whim.

Not me. 

I believe those kids were meant to be there, meant to see what they saw. Now, not as part of some divine plan or any phooey like that — just that, well, the wedding they saw really shaped who they became. 

I saw it happen. I’m glad I went against my instincts in that moment, I’m glad I didn’t stop them.

I saw the glint in little Kurt’s eye, looking at the princess in the white dress. Before the parents even noticed, Kurt had run after her. Blaine ran after Kurt, and Rachel was not one to be left behind, and soon, the three of them were crouching in the hall, looking on at one of the most beautiful weddings I ever managed to plan.

Just outside the doors, a piece of ribbon had somehow slipped off the bride’s bouquet, a ribbon so blue and so delicate, the kids didn’t dare pick it up. A blue so like Kurt’s eyes, Rachel was mesmerized. Blaine slowly picked it up and looked up at the princess. She was smiling, her eyes almost welling up with tears — she really was a radiant bride. 

She winked at Blaine, and the three children on the floor couldn’t contain themselves. The princess nodded at them, encouraging them to keep the ribbon, and she entered the room to _Here Comes The Bride_ played on the harp, and more importantly, to the peals of giggles falling from the kids’ mouths.

* * *

The three grew up together, naturally. They lived on the same street and played together every day. They listened to all the music their parents had, played every board game known to man (and mashed them together to play the Anderhummelberry Extravaganza when even Jenga and Battleship got boring), and married and divorced all the dolls they had in every combination possible. There were tea parties at the Hummels — Lizzie always had the best finger sandwiches — and talent shows at the Berrys — I mean, who can compete with their state of the art karaoke machine? — and choreography lessons to fake musicals at the Andersons — Cooper was a critical teacher, if nothing else. 

Kurt, Rachel and Blaine spent all of their time together. Somehow they were always in the same class, and teachers knew better than to split them up. The other kids weren’t the kindest, and the administration seemed to know the three were better if they were together. 

Rachel crushed on Kurt first. 

Then Blaine crushed on Rachel, then Kurt crushed on Blaine, then Rachel crushed on Blaine and Blaine crushed on Kurt and Kurt crushed on Rachel and none of them ever said _a goddamn word_. Why would they ever tell? That’s not what friends are for, after all.

They defended each other, no matter how wrong they were, because that’s what friends were for. 

They didn’t silence each other, or try to change each other, or try to mellow each other’s worst and loudest qualities. That was just a part of their friend, Rachel’s relentless ambition, Blaine’s growing insecurity, Kurt’s outright rudeness at times. It was just a part of them, and why try to silence your best friend when the world is already doing it?

* * *

Elizabeth Hummel’s death was tragic. You don’t need to know the details — even I didn’t ask for them, and I’m narrating this thing. 

All you need to know is her life was cut short. She was supposed to live a long and happy life, she was supposed to see her curly-haired grandchildren graduate college and become lawyers or astronauts or chefs or whatever they were. She was supposed to lean up to kiss her son on the cheek, because he would be taller than her. She was supposed to tell him how proud she was of him when he published his first story. 

She was supposed to pop the champagne when Rachel passed the bar, and help Blaine pick the decorations for his first classroom. 

She was supposed to be in their lives.

Instead, Kurt lost his mom. 

And Kurt? Kurt was just numb. Intellectually, he understood it. His mom had explained death and the circle of life last year, when his hamster had passed. But emotionally it was a whole other thing.

And not to take from the spotlight, but Blaine and Rachel were numb, too. 

The three of them stood over Mrs. Hummel’s newly covered grave, holding Mr. Hummel’s hand. They didn’t even have a headstone yet, but Kurt knew it would be beautiful. 

Rachel tried not to cry, but Mrs. Hummel was really the only maternal figure she had. Shelby was always in New York and Mrs. Anderson was always working and her dads were _dads_ not _moms_! She just… she just didn’t understand how this could happen. 

And Blaine? Blaine was keeping it together because he knew if he cried, Kurt cried, but Mrs. Hummel was kind of the only real mother Blaine knew, and it really hurt to know they’d never see her smile again, or eat one of her PB&J sandwiches, or bake cookies under her supervision. 

Who was going to bake cookies with them now?

The Andersons and the Berry’s helped Burt as much as they could. They felt like they’d lost one of their own, too, but _god_ what could they even say to him? What could they say to _Kurt_? 

So they cooked and they cleaned and they hosted playdates and they helped with homework and they just tried. They tried to provide a sense of normalcy, until Burt was somewhat back on his feet. 

* * *

By the end of eighth grade, everything seemed normal. They knew they were almost done with middle school, they knew McKinley High’s reputation, and they knew what high school meant. They’d seen enough movies and heard enough horror stories from Cooper to know. Come September, they’d be in the big leagues.

But while they were still in middle school, they were going to have as much fun as they could. 

Which leads us to the tragedy we know of as the Incident at the End Of Year Eighth Grade Dance. Yes, all that capitalization was necessary. You’ll see why in a moment. 

There was a photobooth. That’s where the trouble started.

Kurt and Blaine wanted to dance but they couldn’t dance together — their unspoken “don’t date a friend rule” prevented that — and Rachel was dancing with her Bio partner Finn, so they went to the photobooth. Rachel saw and joined them when the song was over, but the damage was done. 

The big kids, the kids who knew they’d be on varsity football and who knew they put the fear of god in the smaller kids — they saw. They didn’t like it. Their suspicions were confirmed. And they were out for blood.

One of the kids in particular didn’t like it for different reasons. There was a tug in David’s heart, and he didn’t understand it, and it felt way too complicated to even think about. He ignored it.

After Kurt, Rachel and Blaine were kicked out of the photobooth by Brittany and Quinn, they walked over to a table. Rachel complained her feet hurt, and Kurt and Blaine were tired. Blaine offered to use his new cell phone and call his dad to pick them up early, and Rachel insisted Kurt come with her to grab some more of the special cookies Noah brought before they left.

This was also a crucial mistake.

The big kids followed Blaine out of the auditorium, through the hall and to the parking lot, waiting to pounce. 

Chaperones and teachers were called, and the soccer coach pulled the biggest guy off of Blaine. But the damage was done. And by damage, I mean a cracked rib, a dislocated shoulder and a mark on his cheek that never quite healed. 

Kurt still says in certain lights, it almost looks like a dimple. 

They spent the summer between the hospital and self-defense classes, to make sure nothing like that ever happened again. 

* * *

A month into being high schoolers, they’d all joined different cliques. Not because they’d forgotten each other or no longer wanted to be friends — on the contrary, they understood just how important a protective shield around them was in this school. And an established and respected group was just that.

Kurt’s years of gymnastics paid off, and he joined the cheerleading squad. The polyester uniform was itchy and unfashionable, and the endless practices were annoying, but he knew he was untouchable. The goons who preyed on the smaller, nerdier and more defenseless kids would sooner join ballet than harass a cheerleader.

Rachel thought about joining the drama club, of course. But the countless times Shelby had broken promises and then left her in the dust for the cruel mistress that was the stage… So she chose the debate team instead. Not that this was a downgrade by any means, no. The debate team was nationally ranked, they were _winners_. They were a team that lifted her up, taught her how to argue, how to channel that passion into incredible productivity, how to eviscerate with her words, and they turned her into a _winner,_ like them. 

Blaine, well… Blaine joined a sport, of course. He just didn’t expect to make varsity soccer his first year. But with not that many kids in Lima trying out for the team, he was a star after the first semester. Untouchable.

They ate lunch together every day, in the library. 

Everybody knew they were friends. They all carpooled to school together -- first with Blaine’s mom, then in Kurt’s car -- how could they not? It wasn’t exactly subtle. But nobody cared. 

It’s not like they tried to integrate all three groups and make them sing some unity song, and honestly, if that’s how they got through it, _who cares_?

* * *

Kurt and Blaine watched Shelby waltz in and out of Lima, and in and out of Rachel’s life, more times than they cared to count. It solely depended on how her career was going in New York, and it always seemed like right when she was really bonding with Rachel and it seemed like this time would be different and she’d stay and be the mother she said she wanted to be, a producer called. 

_“So and so’s broken a leg, we need you here ASAP!”_

_“We need you to substitute so and so, she needs to go on maternity leave like right now!”_

And the ever famous, _“Oh, Shelby, there’s no one I trust more than you with this role.”_

It destroyed Rachel every single time. Because every single time, she thought maybe this time, Shelby would stay. Because every single time, it reaffirmed what she’d known since she was a child — she’s worth less than the _possibility_ of a silver statue.

* * *

By junior year, they all decided it was New York or bust. Now, we don’t need to get into the details of _why_ , just that they decided that’s where they wanted to be. That’s not so crazy, is it?

They worked hard until they were all in the top 10% of their class, with enough extra curriculars and accolades to feel confident while applying to schools with really low acceptance rates. 

But they applied Early Action, just to be safe.

They had agreed to not tell each other where they were applying — they were best friends and they wanted tackle the adventure together, but they also wanted to be smart and to know they were applying to places because they individually wanted to be there, not because they knew it would be safe because the others were there, too.

In the end, Kurt was accepted to the Journalism track at NYU. Rachel decided on Pre-Law at St. John’s University in Queens. Blaine was ecstatic about his Music Education major at NYU, as well. 

They didn’t mean for it to happen, they actively avoided it, but Kurt and Blaine did become even closer during their time at NYU. Rachel hunkered down, she called, she sent her love, but she was almost too busy to notice.

They made other friends, of course, and they purposefully didn't room together until their last year — they wanted to make sure they branched out and established themselves as individuals.

It didn’t stop their friends from asking if there was more, and it certainly didn't stop any feelings that arose, but it was enough to maintain the friendship.

And besides, once Rachel (somehow) graduated early and started Law at Columbia, everything seemed to be back on track.

* * *

Rachel makes junior partner at her firm three months after her 27th birthday. 

Kurt works his way up the ladder at Vogue.com — what started as an internship had morphed and grown until he was Assistant to the Editor in Chief. He basically proofed anything that came across her desk, and Isabelle trusts him like a son at this point. He spent whatever free time he had submitting stories and op-eds to major publications. Some went farther than a random intern’s inbox, and that was enough for now.

Blaine is, on paper, the resident music instructor at a fancy prep school on the Upper East Side. Off the record, he does a lot more favors for his principal than he wishes. He somehow managed to get roped into also being the director for the school musical every year, even though he has no theatre training. But that promotion is close, and he’ll do anything to secure it. 

Jessie St. James didn’t have to court Rachel for long. She had just graduated law school and was celebrating with some friends when he caught her eye. He worked in real estate, and was quite successful, she found out. Not that it mattered, his trust fund was substantial enough for them to be more than comfortable for the rest of their days. But Rachel liked that — though he didn’t have to do anything, he didn’t have to pursue a career, he worked hard. He liked the chase. She also liked that he donated to animal rights and civil liberties foundations. And that he never mentioned Shelby Corcoran, though she was apparently a close family friend.

Jeremiah entered the picture around the same time as Jessie did, interestingly enough. He’d attended his sister’s kids’ recital at the school and been _very_ taken with the animated teacher who pulled it together, with his bowties and his thousand-watt smile. Jeremiah didn’t do as well for himself as Jessie did, but that was never something that mattered to Blaine. Even if it was a manager position at the Gap in Times Square, it was still the Gap, and Blaine’s prep school salary was good enough for him. 

Oh, what about Kurt, you ask? Well, you see, he hasn’t had a serious boyfriend since too-much-too-fast Adam from freshman year, who was demanding and selfish and definitely not as good in bed as the rumours Kurt had heard. He focused on work, on getting ahead, and he most definitely did _not_ dwell on his feelings for Blaine. Or any resentment to the fact that his best friends had been in serious relationships for three years now, and were always in committed relationships. The longest relationship Kurt had ever had was his phone, and god knows it’s only because he couldn’t afford an upgrade yet.

* * *

I’ll be popping in every so often to clear up questions, but aside from that, I’m letting them take the lead.

Are you caught up to speed now? Good. This is where our story really starts.


	2. Chapter One - I'd Marry You With Paper Rings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> getting a bit of a posting schedule going, with a bonus new chapter today to start off the new year! 
> 
> as always, thanks to Aly and EJ for their support, cheerleading, suggestions and memes.

**Chapter One**

“I’d Marry You with Paper Rings”

There were very few things Kurt would fly out to Connecticut for, but he guessed Quinn’s wedding made top of the list. It was a marvelous wedding, too — really! The ceremony had been just long enough to appease her Catholic parents, but not so long that the groom’s great aunt would start snoring, and on just the right side of sentimental that there wasn’t a dry eye in the house. The reception was lovely as well, and Kurt had _very_ high standards. A large dance floor, a live band, tasteful decor and a three-course meal. And the true sign of lovely, an open bar. 

This was where he met Rachel and Blaine, as they subtly surveyed the room. Champagne flutes in hand, they took it all in. From Quinn’s newly minted husband dancing with her baby cousin, to the tiered snow-white cake just waiting to be served, the lights and the flowers and all the guests, seemingly hundreds of them, all chatting and drinking and dancing. All the way to Quinn herself, twirling in the middle of the dance floor, drunker than they’d ever seen her only an hour into the reception. Her bridesmaids formed a protective circle around her, and for once Kurt was glad he hadn’t been as close to her during their time on the cheerleading squad _—_ try as he might, he could _not_ rock that shade of green. 

“It’s something,” Blaine said. “The live band is a nice touch.”

“The open bar’s even _nicer_ ,” Rachel noted, turning to ask the bartender for another drink. 

“I’ll say it. You’re both thinking it anyway.” Kurt sighed. 

It was a thing they’d done since they were little, and they never seemed to tire of it. Somehow, every wedding they ever went to ended up being compared to that first one at the Plaza. At first, it was just a fun game, almost like they were the other three brides on _Four Weddings_. It had become less fun for Kurt in the last year, when Rachel and Blaine actually started pointing out the things they’d do differently for their _own_ weddings, instead of being objective. The end result was always the same.

The three looked at each other, grins breaking through.

“It’s not the Plaza.”

“And it is _definitely_ not the work of Sue Sylvester,” Rachel added, sipping her new drink. A delightful shade of pink, almost matching her dress. 

“Well, she only works in New York state, you know that,” Blaine chided. “Only goes out for celebrity weddings.”

“Oh, and a Vouge.com exclusive, if you can believe it!” Kurt chimed in, his voice climbing an octave. He was excited to share with his friends, sue him. “Don’t tell _anyone_ , but I heard she’s going to be limiting how many weddings she does now, especially out of the city. Forget out of state, if you want a Sue Sylvester wedding, you’ll have to get married in New York City.”

Blaine laughed, but Rachel frowned. “Well, thank god we don’t need to go very far, then.”

“Go very far for what, babe?” 

Ah, yes. Jessie St. James. Kurt didn’t have anything against the guy, he actually liked him quite a bit. But he had the most annoying tendency to always show up when Kurt least expected him. Like during the “let’s judge the wedding” game _—_ Jessie always ruined it, smug as he was. 

The amount of weddings they were invited to had increased in the last year, and every time Jessie tagged along, the wedding discussion always turned sour _—_ at least in Kurt’s opinion. First, Jessie questioned why they did it, then it became a judgemental silence, and it finally morphed into him giving his two cents about how the flowers were subpar, or the fish was dry, and how obviously their friends were too cheap to spring for a nicer venue or a three course meal, and how if they were _his_ friends’ weddings, the ice sculptures would definitely not be melting yet. After enough weddings, they learned to just cut the conversation short when he arrived, something that annoyed Kurt to no end. 

“Oh, nothing, babe,” Rachel said, giving Jessie a kiss on the cheek as he wrapped his arms around her waist, settling in behind her. 

“Is it about how Kurt won’t have to go very far to find a date here?” Jessie smirked, taking a sip of his girlfriend’s drink. “I mean, you said Quinn’s in real estate right? There’s gotta be tons of young single gays at her work friends table.”

Rachel stifled a laugh as she playfully smacked Jessie’s arm, but Blaine just sent him a look. He knew how touchy Kurt was about being singled out _about_ being the single one, he always had been. God, the amount of conversations Kurt had had about this with both of them _—_ just thinking about it was exhausting. 

There was no string of broken hearts, barely even a string of guys, just casual dates that had never become more. Kurt had enough experience to know he didn’t want to pursue anything he wasn’t invested in, and he hadn’t met anyone he was interested in enough to even begin thinking about investing. 

Jeremiah’s voice came from Kurt’s side, “What are we all laughing about?” 

And sure enough, the lanky man shouldered his way past Kurt, effectively pushing him out of the circle and placing himself at Blaine’s side. Sealed with a kiss, too, as if Kurt didn’t get the message before.

Not that there was a message to get, really, Kurt had always understood just fine. Blaine and Rachel were relationship junkies _—_ every single relationship they’d had was _committed_ , like they had found The One. Guy after guy, relationship after relationship. Guys Kurt thought were for sure only rebounds were around for two years, like they just couldn’t let go. 

And they were always somehow in sync, too. Not that they planned it, but their break ups always happened within a week of each other, and new guys were in the picture not long after. 

They tried not to leave Kurt out, but it was inevitable. He was always on the outside of this _—_ not that he minded. 

He watched them now, secure in the knowledge that they were all too occupied in their respective love bubbles to notice he wasn’t saying anything. They joked with each other, spoke in phrases only the other could understand, touched cheeks and pecked lips and held hands. Kurt had never really understood how Blaine and Rachel could put themselves out there so much, could be so open to so many people, then get hurt and choose to do it all over again. He didn’t like to armchair diagnose his friends, and hadn’t taken enough psych classes to do so, but after years of witnessing it, he figured they were scared of being alone.

Not lonely, that distinction is important. _Alone_. 

Blaine had confided in him early in his relationship with Jeremiah, about how lonely he felt sometimes, even if his boyfriend was right there. Kurt couldn’t remember what bullshit advice he’d given, but clearly it had worked _—_ they’d celebrated their third anniversary just a few months ago. Rachel was a different case, though. She hated being left behind, even as she complained about how lonely it was at the top. But being left alone in the dust? Couldn’t stand it. She always broke things off, sometimes miles before her partner could see it coming, but something about Jessie seemed to have piqued her interest. In all the years Kurt had known her, Rachel had never stuck around this long. 

He just didn’t get how they kept doing this. It hurt, he knew it did, he watched it with his own two eyes, bought the ice cream and had them over for the movie nights that turned into crying themselves to sleep.

He knew he wasn’t built for it. He couldn’t just open himself up to somebody and _hope_ they wouldn’t hurt him. He wanted someone who knew him, someone he wouldn’t have to open up to because they shared everything already. Something familiar and easy and _—_

No. Nope, no, no, no. He was happy being single, and would pride himself in it if that was something he cared about. He didn’t talk a big game about not caring about being in a relationship, he firmly believed they weren’t the end-all be-all others made them out to be _—_ while also acknowledging he wouldn’t be opposed to one. He just… wasn’t looking. He was focusing on work, focusing on his writing. Definitely _not_ focusing on how beautiful Blaine’s smile was as he talked, animated beyond belief. 

Yup, Kurt was happy being single. 

* * *

Barely a week after Quinn’s beautiful Spring wedding, Kurt found himself almost experiencing withdrawals. He loved traveling, he loved seeing his friends, and he loved weddings, but the crash after the fact was something he wished he could avoid entirely. 

His phone buzzed for the fourth time in as many minutes in his pocket, drawing his eyes away from his notepad for just a second. He sighed. Kurt never should have let Rachel name their group chat, and he cursed every Apple developer under the sun for adding the function in the first place. “Anderhummelberry Extravaganza” was a funny enough name when they were eight, but it felt ridiculous for a text chain made up of a group of _adults_. Downright tone deaf sometimes, like when Blaine shared the details of his aunt’s wake and the notification said, “You have a message in Anderhummelberry Extravaganza.” Oh, and don’t forget the dozen emojis, for good measure.

Anyway, it was blowing up now. Without looking, Kurt knew the five messages he’d gotten in the past few minutes were from Rachel _—_ she always took her lunch at this time. 

“Oh, and before I forget, did you finish that report? I know I usually have Ivonne do them, but she’s out sick and I need the final draft on my desk by end of day,” Isabelle said, checking off the last thing on her list. 

This was their routine. No matter what they had going on, every Tuesday they took a beat for thirty minutes to discuss how things were going, and then the next thirty minutes to divide and conquer the task list for their department. 

“I actually have it right here,” Kurt said, a smile on his face, handing over the packet. He knew how to keep his boss happy, and Isabelle’s winning smile told him he’d done right.

“Good, good! Now, get out of here and go be amazing somewhere else, okay?” 

Kurt laughed, gathered his things and stepped out. His phone had buzzed with a total of thirteen more messages, and while that was normal, he was now really intrigued. 

Until he got back to his desk and unlocked his phone. Half the texts were emojis. Shooting stars, champagne bottles, dancing girls, happy faces. And then one simple text from Rachel.

**the client loved me!!!**

This was followed by a confetti emoji from Blaine, who then quickly changed his tune with some red-faced angry emojis, and a whole paragraph. 

**I’ll be late for obligatory celebratory drinks tonight, principal rhodes dragged me into another thing. Can someone find me a clone so I can be in two places at once? I already run band practice after school, drama club on the off days, and the speech and debate team, which i don’t even have qualifications for, but now she’s got me running badminton practice????? I don’t even LIKE badminton!**

All Kurt could do was send a crying emoji, and he pushed away the thought of how he’d been told enough times it wasn’t his place to do anything more.

* * *

Rachel insisted they meet up at her apartment before drinks, but she was buying the takeout, so Blaine and Kurt didn’t really mind. 

Jessie was out at some family function, so they had the place all to themselves. Rachel played some music and passed each of them a glass of wine, then stretched out on the white faux leather couch. Kurt and Blaine joined her at either side, her sock-covered feet landing on Kurt’s lap. 

“We’ll have to move to the table when the food gets here,” she yawned out, taking a sip of her wine. “Jesse always reminds me no stain remover will get soy sauce off this couch.”

“Just flip the cushion,” Blaine said, shrugging, ever the fixer. 

“Like I didn’t try that. We’re sitting on flipped cushions and expertly placed decorative pillows, B,” Rachel groaned. 

“You guys spent way too much time with my dad. None of your parents would have _ever_ taught you to just flip the cushion,” Kurt hummed, laughing despite himself. Rachel rolled her eyes, but Blaine tipped his glass in Kurt’s direction. He knew Kurt was right. 

The food arrived shortly after, and just like Rachel said, they migrated over to the dining table. By the time they were done, the couch went predictably unscathed, the cushions safe from soy sauce or any other kind. Rachel’s cream-colored blouse, though? Not so much.

“Oh, where’s a Tide stick when you need one?” Blaine muttered, patting his pockets. “I must have left mine at school today.”

“It’s no biggie, I was going to change before we went out anyways,” Rachel said, already popping the top two buttons off. “Could you guys clear the table while I get dressed?”

Blaine nodded, already on his feet and grabbing take out containers with both hands. Kurt sipped the rest of his wine and followed suit, knowing better than to oppose Rachel. He was done with his dumplings anyway.

It was a few silent moments of that, picking up boxes and utensils from the table, putting away condiment packets and tossing the empties. All interrupted by a single shriek.

“Rachel?” Kurt called out. He’d heard Rachel scream many times throughout his life, but that shriek was reserved for special occasions _—_ like getting into law school, or the death of a relative, for example. 

So why was he hearing it now?

“Rach? Is everything okay?” Blaine dropped the last container in the trash bin.

His question was answered when Rachel came running back into the room, her still-socked feet sliding on the hardwood floor. She toppled over and fell onto the couch, something small clutched in her hands. Her shirt was gone, but she didn’t seem to care. Her eyes were bright, and she righted herself in a second, motioning for the boys to come over frantically.

They obliged, and before they were even across the room, Rachel extended her arms. A tiny teal box was in her hands, held together with a white satin ribbon.

“Do you think _—_?” Rachel was quiet, like she didn’t even dare to ask.

Kurt and Blaine walked closer, inspecting the box for all it was worth. Neither of them spoke for a moment. Jessie was a man of good taste, he’d gotten her earrings and small trinkets from Tiffany’s before. But it was always for an anniversary, a birthday, a promotion, even. None of that was on the horizon, and it wasn’t like he had to save up to buy them. Most importantly, the boxes were never that small.

“I _—_ I have to know. I can’t not know, but I can’t unknow this,” Rachel said, in a flurry, like she was trying to convince herself. “I _—_ I have to open it!”

Before she could even move, turn away or undo the bow, Kurt snatched the box out of her hand. 

“I’m sorry, but you are _not_ opening this,” he said, his tone final. “ _If_ it’s what we think it is, Jessie should see your face when you first see the ring.”

Rachel fell back, her body landing with a thud on the couch. “Ughhhhhh.” 

“Where did you find this? We have to put it back,” Kurt called, walking towards the bedroom.

“You’re right, I hate that you’re right,” she said. “Oh, I can’t believe I almost did that. I’m sure you’ll always remember Jeremiah’s face when you propose.”

Kurt thanked every deity that he wasn’t in the room for that particular comment. As happy as he was for Rachel, he needed a moment. He schooled his face into a perfectly neutral expression, walking back into the living room. Blaine’s face was very red, like he also couldn’t believe Rachel had just come out and said that. His expression was unreadable, and Kurt was an expert at reading Blaine’s face. It could have been anything, but there was something it definitely wasn’t, and Kurt _definitely_ noticed _—_ excited.

* * *

The walk to their bar of choice was short, but Kurt spent the entirety of it in silence. He was excited for Rachel, for whatever was in that box, but he needed a moment to think. Blaine and Rachel were chattering away about the details of the wedding _—_ nevermind that they weren’t even sure the Tiffany’s box contained an engagement ring _—_ and didn’t notice Kurt’s lack of input. 

The face Blaine had made at the suggestion of being engaged to Jeremiah, it stuck in Kurt’s head. Like the image was burned into his mind’s eye, forcing Kurt to reckon with it and think about it and the implications for the rest of time. Because the truth was, Kurt was not excited for whatever Blaine’s engagement turned out to be. He’d spent so long trying to detangle his feelings, analyze them critically, even bury them so deep they’d never resurface, but it all proved fruitless. One single _suggestion_ that Blaine wasn’t completely into his relationship and Kurt was a starving puppy all over again, hoping against hope that he’d be next. 

He’d also spent years trying to quell that idea down, the idea that out of all the men that had walked into Blaine’s life, he’d be the one who would make him the happiest. 

It had started as a simple crush, and it was normal and natural and he talked himself out of it. By the time they were in college and were the person each was closest to, the feelings had changed into something much deeper. 

He’d rationalized it away _—_ of course you feel something deeper for Blaine, he’s your best friend, he’s the person you trust the most, he held your hand when your mom died, he’s been there for everything. 

Seeing Blaine with other guys had hurt in ways he hadn’t known how to explain, but he’d always been jealous of anyone stealing into their friend group. It had taken Kurt a long, long time to understand that, well, he was in love with Blaine, and by the time he did, it would have been much too complicated to do anything about it. For one, Blaine was in a committed relationship with some guy, and for the other, Kurt and Blaine were living together. Even when Blaine broke up with the guy, Kurt didn’t say anything. He planned and waited, trying to be respectful of Blaine’s mourning period, prepared a really nice dinner and got out the most expensive bottle of wine they had, all for the special night he had planned. He was going to lay it all on the table, tell Blaine everything, and hope that a decade’s worth of carefully constructed friendship over romance didn’t crumble before his very eyes. Then Blaine called, said he met a really special guy and if they could _please_ reschedule dinner for another night, he really wants to see where this goes.

Kurt drank the entire bottle before Blaine made it home.

The really special guy turned out to be Jeremiah.

Kurt stumbled over his feet, bumping into Rachel and back in the present. They were just at the bar, Blaine holding the door open for them. And before the door was shut behind him, Rachel screamed, “I’M ENGAGED!!!” 

Their usual table dissolved into squeals, and the rest of the girls rushed over to hug her. Kurt smiled in hello, walking over to the table as the rest of the girls crowded Rachel. He figured someone had to order the next round anyway.

* * *

“A toast!” Mercedes called, raising her martini glass. “Though she may not have a ring on her finger, Jessie is a lucky guy.”

The rest clinked their glasses, taking a sip and laughing together. It felt nice, carefree, something Kurt didn’t feel very often. Though he also didn’t often have three glasses of wine before going out for drinks, either. 

Santana called their attention, banging her beer bottle on the table. “And good luck to Kurt, the poor bastard’s got his work cut out for him!”

Rachel laughed, and Tina followed up with, “Yeah, no offense Blainey-Days, but there’s no way you’re maid of honor.”

Kurt didn’t get a chance to respond, or even process what was being implied, when Santana started banging on the table again, demanding shots like it wasn’t a Tuesday night. 

“Oh, but my wedding, ugh,” Tina lamented, taking the last swig of her beer. “Mike’s mom _really_ got up my butt, it was like she didn’t realize it was my wedding, too, you know? I’m lucky I had my mom to help reign her in.”

“Amen,” Santana said, laughing. “My mom always said it was the biggest day of a girl’s life. If I ever get married, I don’t know what I would do if she couldn’t be there, you know?”

Silence settled over the table, and even the shots arriving weren’t enough to keep Rachel from running off.

“Fuck, what did I say?” Santana asked, her eyes flitting over everyone else.

“Shelby’s been in town for like four months, Rachel tried to set up a lunch and she blew her off,” Blaine supplied. “You know how she gets.”

Mercedes looked out at the sidewalk right outside the bar, at Rachel leaning against the glass windows. Kurt took a shot and shook his head out. “I got this.”

He walked straight past the door, out onto the sidewalk, and planted himself right next to Rachel. He held a hand out, and Rachel turned towards him, leaning against him for support.

“It wasn’t even the right phone number, you know,” Rachel started. “We had promised we would keep each other posted with the latest contact info, and when I called to ask about lunch that first week she was in town, some guy answered, said I had the wrong number. Said he’d had that number for years.”

Kurt pulled his arm around her shoulders, squeezing her arm. 

“I don’t talk about her much, I don’t like her, I don’t know why I _—_ why I need her to like _me_ so much,” she breathed out. “My _—_ my dads are amazing, and they’ve always been amazing, and when I was little I thought having three parents meant more love than other kids got. That’s… that’s not the family I got to have, I just have this like, this fractured image of what could have been, and this dumb gaping hole of what I _want_ it to be.”

“You’re leaving two people out of that picture,” Kurt said quietly. She looked at him, questions in her eyes. “Me. Blaine. Not to mention all the Hummels and Andersons. Even if it’s not the most traditional, we’re your family, too.”

Tears were running down Rachel’s cheeks, and Kurt was glad her mascara was waterproof. 

“I know it’s not the same. God, of all people, I know it’s not the same. But all the Hummels and all the Andersons will want to be there, and they’ll always support you. We accept the things we cannot change, and she might have to be one of them.”

Rachel laughed, and Kurt smiled down at her. 

“I hate how you’re the one without a mom, and I’m the one complaining,” she said, wiping her tears away with her hand.

“Rachel, you’re so, so strong,” Kurt said, squeezing her closer to him. “But you’re only human.”

The door behind them opened and closed again, and Blaine appeared right there, attaching himself to Rachel’s other side. She hugged the two of them closer still, and it almost felt like the three of them would soon be fused together. As inseparable as they had been when they were kids.

“I’m glad you two are my family.”

* * *

The following night started off less eventful. Kurt ate leftovers, poured himself a glass of wine and opened his laptop. He’d had a story in the back of his head all day, just begging to be written out, and he was glad to finally have a crack at it. 

He had written about three pages, really in the zone, when his phone rang. Of course Blaine was FaceTiming him, just when he was hitting his stride.

“Hi, B, what’s up?” he tried asking, but the moment he accepted the call, Rachel’s voice was already going a mile a minute through the receiver.

“ _—_ hasn’t asked me yet, it’s ridiculous, now that I know the ring is there, it’s like it’s _taunting_ me, but I know it’s just a matter of _—_ ”

“No, no, Rachel, listen!” Blaine cut her off. He held up his left hand, a flash of silver glinting through the small screen. “Jeremiah _proposed_! I’m engaged!”

The excitement was palpable through the phone, so visible in his face. Blaine’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears, his smile so wide and bright, it almost hurt to look at. Rachel was cheering, and all Kurt could do was smile and offer a happy congratulations. He didn’t know what to do with himself, and he hoped it wasn’t as evident as he felt. 

Rachel had already launched into a barrage of planning details, asking Blaine about his schedule in the coming days to see when they could meet, what flavor the cake should be, how big a wedding party he wanted. It was making Kurt dizzy.

Blaine felt the same way, apparently. “Rachel _—_ Rach, stop, it’s okay! I gotta call my parents, I just wanted you guys to hear it from me first _—_ I gotta go. Love you guys, bye!”

Kurt’s screen went black, and he let the phone clatter down on the table. Numb maybe wasn’t the best way to describe what he felt, but he couldn’t come up with any other words. It had finally happened _—_ Blaine was officially engaged. Engaged. Engaged to be _married_. 

And Kurt should be jumping for joy, excited beyond belief, exhilarated, happy for his best friend. And he just… wasn’t. He couldn’t muster it up. He was glad Blaine had opted for a quick call, instead of a gathering or a dinner _—_ how he would have reacted then was anyone’s guess. He could have played it off, sure, but the energy it took to even blurt out, “ _Congratulations_!” was alarming. God, how was he going to get through the wedding?

He’d have to, for this boy, this _man_ who had been through so much with him. Who even in Kurt’s saddest, darkest times seemed to shine golden and paint Kurt with that same light, too. In his childhood, through college when all their friends thought they’d come to New York as a couple and warned them about the scene, making Blaine’s actual date so uncomfortable, through their teen years, through those early years out of college when all they had was pasta and two-dollar wine and a goldfish that died mere days after Blaine moved out. Every step of the way, Blaine’s golden sunlight, his sunny disposition and enthusiasm and warmth and understanding had put solid ground under Kurt’s feet, made him feel like everything would somehow be okay. 

Blaine, who just last night had been so quiet, had seemed so unsure about the idea of presenting Jeremiah with a ring and was now sporting one. 

Blaine, who had been Kurt’s first kiss. 

They were fourteen, just a few weeks shy of starting at McKinley, and the three of them had sat in a circle. Cooper had told them years before that high school was where kids were the meanest, where they picked on you for the things even _you_ didn’t know you didn’t like about yourself. Rachel had suggested they all share what those things were, and the other two would make them feel better about it all. 

It had seemed like a solid plan. And since it was Rachel’s plan, she went first.

_“You guys know about my mom,” she started. “It’s not that she’s famous or that people know her, it’s that… that she left me, she’s not here.”_

_“But you have your dads, Rach, and they love you so much,” Blaine countered. She sent him a smile._

_“And my nose. It’s big and wonky and doesn’t look like anybody else’s.”_

_“It looks like your mom’s,” Kurt said. “And like — oh, what’s her name? Barb? No, uhh, Barbara something?”_

_Tears pooled in Rachel’s eyes, but she smiled at him. “That and my boobs. They’re so small right now, and Michelle Rodriguez’s are like two tennis balls, I saw her last week at the pool.”_

_Kurt averted his eyes, and Blaine shifted uncomfortably, looking directly at Rachel’s forehead._

_“I, uhh. I guess that leads directly into mine, then,” Blaine said. “I’m gay.”_

_“Me too!” Kurt squeaked out._

Rachel had laughed and hugged them both, and their sharing circle was interrupted when Mr. Anderson walked in to tell Rachel her dad was there to pick her up. Kurt and Blaine were left alone in his room, and it felt like the sharing circle’s spell was broken. 

_Kurt mustered up all his courage, years of pining and anticipation, and blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “I’m nervous about my first kiss.”_

_Blaine looked at him with wide eyes, like he didn’t believe Kurt had just said that. “Me too.”_

_“I want it to be with someone special, and I don’t know if I’ll find anyone special at that school.”_

_“You’re special,” Blaine said, grabbing his hand._

_Kurt’s breath hitched. “You’re special, too.”_

_“What if we just…”_

_“And we don’t tell Rachel?”_

_Blaine shook his head. “I mean, she’s already kissed Finn, it’s not like she’ll be mad or anything.”_

_“She’ll be mad we kept it from her,” Kurt countered, knowing their friend. “And she’ll think we’re dating. Which we’re not, right?”_

_“Right, right,” Blaine said, far too quickly. “So we just… don’t tell Rachel. It’ll be our secret.”_

_“Our secret,” Kurt repeated._

They leaned in, and it was only a peck, barely a slide of warm lips against Kurt’s, but it stayed in his mind forever. He remembered the way it felt like his lips caught fire, the way they drew back almost immediately and giggled, the way every kiss he’d had since never seemed to measure up. 

How he felt that dumb, useless glimmer of hope every time Blaine looked at him, and squashed it down. 

And now stupid Jeremiah would get those kisses as long as they both shall live.

Kurt poured himself another glass of wine.


	3. Chapter Two - It's Blue Skies From Here On Out

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> huge shout out to aly and ej for encouraging me to CONTINUE writing, especially when i thought it was not going great, and also for listening to me ramble on and on. y'all are just simply the best.

**Chapter Two**

“It’s Blue Skies from Here on Out”

Less than two hours after getting home from work, Kurt’s phone was buzzing. He had been looking forward to a night to himself, and yet, God, _another_ joint FaceTime call. Kurt had barely unlocked his phone when his speaker almost blew out.

“I’M ENGAGED!” Rachel’s voice screamed out of the speaker. She was jumping, her long hair a flurry behind her shoulders. Kurt could see Jessie sitting on the couch in the background, on the phone, with a smile on his face. 

“So this time he actually asked?” Kurt laughed, a grin on his face. Rachel pouted, and if he had been there, he knew she would have smacked him. He laughed even harder. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! I’m so happy for you, congratulations!”

“Oh, it was so romantic,” Rachel started, and Kurt let her go on. “And engaged at the same time as my bestie, God, it’s like we’re twinsies!” Blaine laughed too, at all the appropriate moments, and Kurt couldn’t help but think how different he had felt in this same situation just a few days ago.

He felt light, his heart was near bursting with excitement for Rachel, excitement for her life and her wedding and her _dress_ , god she was going to make the most beautiful bride. As indifferent as Kurt was towards Jessie, he knew he made Rachel the happiest she’d been in a long time, and who was he to judge that? 

Where had all this been during Blaine’s call?

* * *

**Hey, Mr. Best Man! Clear your Wednesday afternoon, Rachel got us a meeting with Sue Sylvester at 4PM!**

The barrage of emojis from Blaine was enough to convey his excitement, but Kurt couldn’t bring himself to be excited. He had a couple of days to come to terms and get himself in check, but it was going to be a _miserable_ few days.

* * *

The following days flew by, between work and his writing and all the meaningless and yet so meaningful details Blaine and Rachel needed to decide on before their meeting with Miss Sue Sylvester. Kurt didn’t care to know how Jessie’s family managed to not only convince Sue Sylvester’s people to give them an appointment on such short notice, but also a joint appointment for a bride and a groom that were _not_ marrying each other, and their best man/man of honor. Kurt could smell the chaos coming from a mile away. 

As expected, he was appointed best man and man of honor for his respective friends’ weddings. He loved them dearly, but he was already on edge. Since they had been children, they all wanted the same thing _—_ an October wedding at the Plaza. Not only was October in less than six months, but he also hadn’t expected both engagements to happen _at the same time_. And Kurt knew better than to hope Blaine or Rachel would be happy with a longer engagement. Between the tiny decisions he was already helping with, and the big decision to just have a joint engagement party for them, Kurt knew he was in for a ride. He had a busy six months ahead of him, and despite the bouts of stress it caused him, he was actually very excited for it.

A smaller part of him, though, was a bit sad. He knew it wasn’t necessarily about Blaine, but rather about the weddings themselves. At first, he didn’t really understand it. But it made sense. They were all the same age, at about the same level in their respective career tracks, and mostly equals in every other way _—_ no one person was more adult than the others. But a _wedding_. A wedding changed things. His friends would soon be married, and though their lives wouldn’t change all that much, _marriage_ meant something. Rachel and Blaine were taking a big step forward in their journey to adulthood, and Kurt… felt a little behind.

He knew it didn’t really mean anything, and if he actually thought about it, it was his fault _—_ an obvious byproduct of avoiding relationships was not having any prospects for engagement. But he couldn’t help but feel like Blaine and Rachel were ahead of him now, more grown up somehow. And for Kurt, who had always somehow been the most mature out of the three when they were growing up, it hit harder than he expected. 

Before he even realized, they were walking down the streets at a fast pace, clutching hands to not lose each other in the crowd and desperately trying to make it to Miss Sylvester’s office in time. Being late would not do. 

Though they’d been huge fans since they were kids, and had lived in the city for years, none of them had ever bothered to visit the office. Part of it was because they really had no business going, but a bigger part of them wanted it to be a surprise, a new experience to go with all the new experiences that came with an engagement. 

Lot of good it did them now, only going by an address and no idea what the office even looked like. Add to that the fact that Rachel’s deposition ran over and they were in a mad dash across town, hurrying to make it but not so much that Rachel’s heel would break. Now _that_ would not be a good look. 

“Wait, there! I think we just passed it!” Blaine called out, stopping and pulling Kurt with him. Rachel stumbled into them, looking around wildly.

“The _—_ the pink one?” she panted out, catching her breath, the cool mid-April air making it just a bit harder.

“There’s no way it’s the pink one, it’s so much,” Kurt said, pulling out his phone. He pulled up the website again, letting the other two gawk at the quaint salmon-pink building, with it’s gilded fence and ornate french doors. But. Well, that’s what the website said. “Looks like this is the place, actually.”

Rachel adjusted her shirt and brushed her fingers through her hair, and Blaine blotted at his face with a tissue. They wanted to look their absolute best for Sue Sylvester, to get _her_ absolute best. Even though they’d never met her or visited her office, they’d done their research _—_ all of them had. They’d read all the blogs, the books, the reviews, they _knew_ how Miss Sylvester seized up brides from the moment they walked in the building, from their scuffed shoes to their badly-pencilled eyebrows. Her snap judgements were legendary. And while she was, of course, hailed a consummate professional, there were still a good amount of brides who didn’t quite agree with those snap judgements, no matter how right they were, and felt they’d been unjustly treated because of it. A good first impression was essential.

“Breath mints?” Kurt offered, eagerly popping one before passing the tin around. They thanked him, chewed and swallowed in mere seconds, and pushed the front gate aside. 

The walkway leading to the front door was made up of natural-looking white stones, so clean and bright against the grass, it felt like they were no longer in Manhattan. The streets were so dirty, nothing stayed pristine for long in the city, but Kurt felt like Alice falling through the rabbit hole when he walked past the gilded gate. He knew it was his imagination, but it was like the commotion of traffic and the constant murmur of noise from millions of people living their lives just… faded away. There were only two things in the world: the elbows of his two best friends linked with his own, and the sunlight hitting his face. It truly felt like they’d entered a different world.

They approached the door, and Rachel giggled as she pulled it open. 

It was like the fantasy kept going, really. From the marble floors to the chandelier and even the curtains by the windows, Kurt felt like he had just entered a palace. A quick look to his friends told him they felt the same way. Rachel’s jaw had dropped ever so slightly, and Blaine’s eyebrows had shot up at least two inches above their normal resting spot. 

Naturally, Blaine was the first to regain his composure. He stepped forward, walking towards a small, ornate desk Kurt hadn’t even noticed. The desk was tucked in a corner next to the closed double doors, and a man sat behind it, two laptops open and his eyes quickly flitting from one screen to the other. He was not the kind of man Kurt would have pictured as Miss Sylvester’s assistant, with his pastel button down shirt and also pastel sweater tied over his shoulders, with the sleeves forming the knot in the front, and the dark rimmed glasses, crooked teeth and thin, balding hair.

Rachel took two steps forward, eager to join Blaine and check in, when the man behind the desk interrupted them. “You’re late.”

Kurt looked at his watch, but Blaine was two steps ahead of him.

“Our appointment is actually at 4PM, uh…?” 

“Sandy,” the man supplied. “Sandy Ryerson, not that it matters. You’re late.”

“Sir, it _—_ it’s 3:57 right now,” Rachel stuttered out, nervously pulling at her skirt. Kurt walked up and stood just behind them, patting Rachel on the back.

“Early is on time, on time is late, and late is unacceptable,” Ryerson supplied. Barely looking up at Blaine and Rachel’s crestfallen faces, he pulled open a drawer and pulled out two clipboards. “Did you not read the confirmation email? I spend a lot of time perfecting those, but of course no one reads them… You have to fill out this questionnaire before your meeting. I’m assuming one of you is Berry and one of you is Anderson?”

At their nods, Ryerson handed Blaine and Rachel a clipboard and pen each, then waved his hand over to an ornate bench. “Be quick about it. She doesn’t like waiting.”

Kurt surveyed the room. The bench was really only big enough for the two of them, even their bags sitting on the floor, and there wasn’t even an arm for Kurt to perch on, and of course no other kind of seating was available. Just as he decided to lean on the wall adjacent to the couch, Ryerson cleared his throat.

“Who are you?” 

Kurt raised his eyebrows. “I’m their man of honor.”

Ryerson snorted. “That’s a new one.” He looked Kurt up and down in a way that made him just the slightest bit uncomfortable. “Wait, both of them? Oh, good luck, kid.”

Kurt stiffened, turned on his heel and took the few short strides necessary to join Blaine and Rachel’s party. 

And what a party it sounded like. They were filling out a three-page multiple choice questionnaire, laughs and squabbling filling the air. 

“See, that’s why I wanted Jessie’s input on some things, he’s given me free reign and money’s not an issue, and obviously I’ll pick what’s best for us, but if I didn’t know he was allergic to daisies, they would have been in all the centerpieces!” Rachel prattled on. “I wouldn’t have thought of that, but it’s genius to have that in the questionnaire, you know?”

“Jeremiah’s too busy, honestly,” Blaine said, only a slight bit of resignation in his voice. “Only top level stuff, like band vs. DJ.”

Kurt looked up, surprised. Rachel had stopped filling her questionnaire, too, but Blaine barely paid them any mind. It worried Kurt that Blaine seemed so used to being the only active participant in his relationship, but he had learned long ago that it was not his battle to fight. 

Rachel glanced back down at her clipboard, only a few questions left. “He’s blander than the beige crew socks he sells, anyway, so the wedding may be better for it,” she said with a cautious laugh.

Kurt just barely kept his in, but he noticed the way Blaine’s knuckles tightened, and he let it go. Kurt wondered what that was about _—_ Rachel made fun of Jeremiah all the time, but Blaine usually laughed it off, he knew it was all in jest, the same way they all dunked on Jessie for his trust fund and private school education. Kurt had to stop himself from wondering if something deeper was happening _—_ he knew Blaine would tell him if he needed to talk. 

Blaine set his clipboard and pen down, then reached into his bag, bringing out his almost comically large wedding binder. All three of them had one, but Blaine was the only one of them who had actually saved all his original doodles and just kept updating and adding to the binder, as opposed to doing away with all the kiddie stuff like the other two. Kurt loved that he was sentimental like that. 

Just as Rachel put her pen down, Ryerson stood and cleared his throat once more, the sound almost making Kurt sick. 

“She’s ready for you.”

The double doors opened wide, and Blaine and Rachel scrambled to stand up. In the center stood the most impressive woman Kurt had ever seen. She stood tall, in a well-tailored pantsuit and with an air of absolute confidence and control. Even her short, spiky blond hair was perfect. This was not a woman you would ever catch slipping.

All Kurt, Blaine and Rachel could do was stare.

“Well, don’t just stand there wasting my time, come on in,” she said, ushering them in. 

She moved to sit back behind her desk, two plush armchairs in front of her. Rachel and Blaine entered, holding their binders close to their chests, eyes wide and glued to the woman before them.

“Sit.”

Rachel sat to the right, Blaine to the left, and Kurt looked around for maybe an ottoman or a bench, anywhere to sit. Rachel started to say something, probably about how much she admired Miss Sylvester and how much she had impacted all their lives, but the woman sitting across from them wasn’t looking at her. She was looking directly at Kurt, who was standing awkwardly by the door.

“Right, right. You’re the separate bride and groom with the same best man/man of honor. I’ve been looking forward to _this_ appointment for days.” Sue Sylvester snapped her fingers. “Ryerson, chair.”

The man came bustling in, carrying a plastic folding chair and setting it between Rachel and Blaine, almost trampling over Kurt in his hurry. 

“Close the door on your way out. You know the drill.”

Ryerson exhaled loudly, motioned for Kurt to make way and moved swiftly, closing the doors behind him. A mess of a man, he looked. 

Kurt sat between his friends, the plastic chair squeaking underneath him every time he shifted. Rachel sent him a look, and finally Kurt resigned himself to just sitting uncomfortably. 

“A wedding marks the first day of the rest of your life,” Sue Sylvester started. The energy in the room shifted. Kurt saw Rachel sit up straighter, and Blaine’s shoulders squared up. Every fiber of Kurt’s being, every atom in the room seemed to be on edge. Sue Sylvester commanded attention like no one else. “You have been dead until now. Were you aware of that? You’re dead right now.”

“I understand,” Rachel breathed out. 

Kurt settled in his chair again, stifling his laugh and making the chair squeak again, almost breaking the tension in the room. He looked over at Blaine and saw the same amusement on his face, but when he turned to Rachel, there was a tear leaking down her cheek.

“Sandy out there will probably die dead,” Sue added, settling back into her chair. Kurt and Blaine exchanged a knowing look, but Rachel still seemed a little too emotional to be humored. Thankfully, she had the brief moments Sue took to look through the questionnaires to collect herself. “I’ve read your briefs, and thank you for filling these out, always so helpful. October weddings at the Plaza, always a good choice.”

Rachel and Blaine nodded their heads, and that seemed to be all Sue Sylvester needed. “I hope you realize this is impossible.” There was a pause so long, Kurt felt like it would never end. “Well, impossible without me.” Sue Sylvester let out a laugh, and Rachel and Blaine followed with nervous laughter of their own. 

“You came to the right place, kids,” she said, glancing down at the calendar on her desk. “Nobody else can get you in there on such short notice, everyone else has a three-year waiting list. Now, I have three available slots for October _—_ I only do Saturday weddings now, but especially at the Plaza. We’ve got two on the 10th, and one on the 24th. So.”

Before Kurt could even blink, Rachel’s hand was already up. “I’ll take the 24th,” she stated brightly, not even looking at Blaine for confirmation. “It’s the day my dads decided to have a baby, we celebrate it every year.” 

Blaine huffed out a laugh, though Kurt could tell he did not find the situation funny at all. “I… uh, I guess I’ll take the 10th, then.”

“Wonderful.” Sue clacked at her keyboard at record speed, still looking at the three of them. 

Kurt briefly wondered why Blaine didn’t put up a fight, why he didn’t at least try to have a discussion about the dates. Of course, this was part of Blaine’s people-pleasing personality, the part that people in his life often took advantage of, but it seemed too perfect to pass up _—_ October 24th was his and Jeremiah’s anniversary, that had to mean something to Blaine. 

_No. Stop. That isn’t the kind of thing you know about your friends, is it? Even if he’s your best friend?_

“Sign and date here, and here and here,” Sue was saying, pointing at different lines in freshly printed documents for both of them. “Now, these weddings are barely six months from now, which is… really ambitious. I’ll be meeting with you monthly, unless otherwise necessary, for viewings, reservations and to make sure everything is still on track. I’m assuming Porcelain here will be your preferred point of contact?” Rachel nodded enthusiastically, and Blaine gave him a soft smile. God, Kurt could melt with that smile. “Now, included in your packets are tiered To Do lists that absolutely must be finished by their dates. They are adjusted for your specific target date, and it is imperative you stay on schedule. Behind them on your packets are my preferred vendors. It is not mandatory to hire them, but they do offer perks and discounts when they hear you’ve been referred by me, and they are the most reliable in the state. Do you have any questions for me?”

Sue handed Blaine and Rachel each a sleek, ivory colored folder, filled to bursting with brochures, info sheets and booklets. She handed Kurt a baby blue folder, only slightly less packed. 

“Yours, Mr. Hummel, is meant to keep them both on track,” she added.

“Um, when will our next appointment be, Miss Sylvester?” Rachel asked, already pouring over her pamphlets. 

“Ryerson will email you the information. Any clerical nonsense goes through him. Real questions?”

A beat went by, the silence so thick Kurt could feel it. It seemed like she was daring them to come up with a question, but also warning them not to question her at all.

“Excellent. See you soon.” Sue pressed a small button on her desk and the doors opened. 

An eager, middle-aged woman stood to the side, clutching her purse and smiling just a little too widely. Another hopeful bride, of course. 

Rachel was the first one out the door, and leaned in to whisper into the woman’s ear. Kurt narrowed his eyes, but pulled on Rachel’s shoulder as he and Blaine walked past the double doors. 

* * *

The three weeks that followed were a flurry of appointments, tastings, visits, lists and laughs. They had all gone to Kurt’s apartment after the meeting with Sue Sylvester, eager to schedule appointments and get started. Surprisingly, both had already checked off most of the top level items on Sue’s To Do list. Even more surprisingly, the majority of the vendors and bands they had been looking at were on Sue’s list, too. 

Kurt had spent a good chunk of time making calls to get all three of them in the same room for cake tastings, caterer tastings, looking through save the date and invitation look books, dress and tuxedo fittings, gift registering, bouquets and arrangements _—_ you name it, Kurt was probably already on it. He knew decisions wouldn’t get made until later down the line, and he knew both Blaine and Rachel had some kind of idea of what they were looking for, but he also knew he needed to follow Sue’s advice, and what that meant was making his bride and groom aware of what was actually available. 

And Kurt was happy to say he got lost in it. So much of his energy was devoted to scheduling and talking to different assistants and sending calendar invites, and then actually _going_ to the appointments, he was kind of having the time of his life. He couldn’t help it, he just really, _really_ loved weddings. 

Sure, his anxiety spiked a little every single time they went to an appointment, and then he just ended up sitting in a corner while Blaine and Rachel giggled and looked and tasted _—_ they insisted he be a part of the experience, he was essential in helping them make their choices and steering them in the right direction, but _God_ , the majority of his time was spent watching them have fun and look amazed. It was almost like he was watching in real time as their bond grew, and he feared soon they’d just leave him in the dust. He tried to shake off the thought, but it crept up every time Rachel booped frosting across Blaine’s nose, every time Blaine laughed at a joke clearly only the two of them were privy to _—_ every time he was on the outside of this. Every time one of the shop assistants asked him if he wanted to try the cake his fiancé was trying, and with that, every time he had to correct them and say he was just the best man. Maybe it was the Blaine of it all, maybe it was the wistfulness of wishing this was his life, maybe it was wedding fever. He didn’t know _what_ it was, and he certainly wasn’t going to bring his best friends down with it. 

One particular Saturday, the morning started with coffee across the street from a highly coveted florist, to look at centerpieces and a potential bouquet for Rachel. She still wasn’t sold on greenery as the centerpiece, but Kurt knew Blaine was really excited about it, so off they went.

Two hours later found them at a bakery across town, practically eating their weight in vegan cakes. Blaine would get his turn with a non-vegan bakery in two weeks’ time, but Rachel had been insistent _—_ apparently this quaint place called _Effie’s_ was _the_ best rated vegan place on all the blogs, and Rachel would only have the best.

They slowed down for lunch, knowing they had yet another appointment with a potential caterer after their dress/tuxedo shopping appointment, and barely holding it together.

“I really can’t believe this is happening,” Rachel said, pushing around the last few pieces of her salad. “I don’t know what I would do without you two.”

Blaine hummed in agreement, and Kurt laughed. “Well, you’d be doing this alone, for sure. Wouldn’t be nearly as fun.”

* * *

They got to the boutique just in time _—_ a very large bridal party was just leaving, huddled around a girl who was crying inconsolably. On the plus side, it seemed like they had the entire place to themselves.

Kurt was offered champagne and a seat as Rachel was whisked off to talk silhouettes and colors with a stylist, and Blaine was pulled to the back for measurements. Kurt knew he’d struck gold, finding a boutique that would work with both of his friends _—_ he just didn’t realize that meant he’d be mostly alone with his thoughts. Every once in a while, an attendant would come by and offer him a pastry or a refill, but for the most part he just sat on the love seat, holding Rachel’s purse and trying to ignore the tugging at his heart.

Naturally, it won soon enough. The thoughts wouldn’t stop swirling around in his head, knocking around, waiting to be addressed.

There was just a small part of him that wished he was a part of this, too. Kurt knew he was, of course he was. He scheduled every appointment, checked every box, called every Lyft and even chose every coffee spot. But he wasn’t tasting for his palette, he was tasting for theirs. He wasn’t choosing a color scheme for his skin tone, but for theirs. In the past few weeks, Rachel and Blaine had gotten so in sync, they’d left Kurt out without even meaning to. They would always share this experience together, of making these once-in-a-lifetime decisions, and Kurt would be on the sidelines of those memories, forever.

There was an even smaller part of Kurt, a part so small he hardly dared to listen to it, even if he knew it was there, that wished he was doing this with Blaine. Not as his best man, but as his _—_

“What do you think?” 

Kurt blinked his eyes rapidly, Blaine suddenly in front of him, so dashing even the cashiers were swooning.

“You don’t think it’s too much?” Blaine frowned. He looked uncomfortable, though Kurt couldn’t tell if it was because of the attention or the tuxedo. 

“It really depends on Jeremiah’s tuxedo, too, and since he refuses to come with us, I don’t know if we can determine that,” Kurt answered. Truthfully, this one was definitely too much, but Kurt was not going to be the one to break that to Blaine. 

“You know he’s just busy.” Blaine faltered, like he was trying to convince himself more so than Kurt.

The thing with Blaine was that he had a completely detailed vision for what he wanted his wedding to look like, down to the three course meal for his guests. He was also just so clueless, he had never given how _he_ would look much thought. And Jeremiah, being Jeremiah, had not given _any_ of it any kind of thought, so Blaine was kind of given free reign. And Kurt knew he relished in it, but the look of the tuxedos was his one blindspot. Kurt also knew _exactly_ what Blaine would want, and he knew it was not his place to offer that. 

But this flashy, almost reflective silver tux, with it’s blue piping, was _not it_ at all. And unfortunately, it showed on Kurt’s face. 

And before Kurt could even make a case, Rachel stepped out and commanded the room, in a gown so lacey, it would look more at home in a _Victoria’s Secret_ catalogue. An off the shoulder, skin tight sheath dress with long sleeves, all in chantilly lace _—_ it didn’t look anything like what Rachel had described to Kurt. 

Her face was hopeful, but her eyes conveyed everything Kurt needed to know. 

“It’s… different from what I expected,” Kurt said slowly, cautious. “You look beautiful.”

Rachel turned, surveying herself in the mirror. She pulled at the sleeves, a frown on her face.

“It’s just the first one, sweetheart, let’s go try on the next one,” the attendant gathered up the train of Rachel’s dress and started leading her back to her dressing room, shooting a smile Kurt’s way. He could only imagine how many guests weren’t as nice to the bride as he had been. 

Kurt looked back at Blaine, about to excuse himself, or maybe give a half-hearted compliment about the build or the pleating of his tux, when Rachel’s laugh sealed the deal.

“Wait, wait! That one’s a joke, right?” she squealed, stopping on her way to the dressing room. 

“It wasn’t, but thanks,” Blaine said, watching Rachel tentatively. 

“Why don’t you have Kurt just make it for you?” Rachel asked, unaware of the can of worms she had just opened. “I mean, he probably knows what you want better than you do, and then whatever Jeremiah ends up with can just be made to suit you because yours is getting custom made.”

She went back in the dressing room, and the silence was deafening.

Kurt blinked, really not wanting to get caught in the middle, but also full well knowing it was inevitable. Jeremiah probably really wouldn’t like that.

“Is that something you’d be willing to do, Kurt?” Blaine asked, voice small. Their eyes met, and Kurt immediately knew there would be no world in which he’d say no.

And again, before Kurt could say anything, Rachel walked back out, in an almost comically large ball gown, wading through what seemed like yards and yards of a satin-y fabric. She walked up to the mirror, looking at all angles. By her face, Kurt could tell she wasn’t satisfied. It was closer, definitely more Rachel Berry than the previous dress, but still a few points off.

She turned, looking at the back of the dress as the attendant placed a veil on the crown of her head, completely unaware of the tension in the air. 

Or maybe Kurt was imagining the tension. 

“This isn’t the one, I just know it,” Rachel said, finality in her tone. “Let’s try that third one.”

She walked off, handing the veil to another attendant as she went. The lead motioned for the other two employees present to find some more options for Rachel, and then Kurt and Blaine were alone. 

Blaine approached Kurt and gingerly sat down beside him, thighs and shoulders touching _—_ the love seat was so small. He took Kurt’s hand, looking up at him with those warm honey eyes.

“I don’t want to pressure you, I know you didn’t offer,” Blaine started. “But Rachel’s kind of right. You know me better than probably anyone else, and you know what I want better than I do most of the time. I don’t want something off the rack, I want something that’s really _me_ , and there’s nobody else I trust to do it.”

Kurt’s breath hitched. Their eyes met, and Kurt knew he wasn’t imagining the way Blaine’s eyes trailed across his face. God, Blaine would never know how much his words meant to Kurt, how it felt to be trusted like that. He felt so weak in moments like this one, moments where Blaine just seemed so open and honest and just _there_ , it broke Kurt’s heart. His feelings were always so complicated, his trust so fragile, and Blaine went around just offering his entire honest self to everyone. Those big eyes and that golden sunny smile, it was no wonder he won over almost everyone he talked to. 

He looked away _—_ he had to. They were too close, it was too much, and his heart was dangerously close to going into overdrive. Kurt didn’t need yet another episode of wondering what was and what if and what could have been, and _especially_ not while planning Blaine’s fucking _wedding_ to someone else. They weren’t having a moment, their eyes weren’t meeting across the room, their hearts weren’t beating in tandem like something out of a rom com _—_ Blaine already had that. Kurt was the plucky best friend, always with a witty remark and a pithy comment. Blaine was so kind, people probably thought they had Moments with him all the time. They probably daydreamed about those eyes and doodled their last names joined together in the corner of their notebooks, meanwhile Blaine went home to his real lover, blissfully unaware of how many hearts he broke along the way. 

Not that Kurt was speaking from experience.

He cleared his throat and laughed lightly. “You can stop with the flattery, I’ll do it.” He patted Blaine’s hand. “Go change out of this before it wrinkles, we can talk after we’re done at the caterer’s.”

Blaine hugged Kurt’s side, then rushed off, taking off the jacket on the way to the back. 

Kurt didn’t want to think about it. He really didn’t want to think about the implications of designing the tuxedo Blaine would wear to marry another man, didn’t want to think about how much time he would have to spend thinking about Blaine and what Blaine wanted and what Blaine would look good in, and Blaine this and Blaine that, as if he didn’t already live rent-free in his head. _God_ , Kurt didn’t want to think about the implications of taking Blaine’s measurements, of sizing up his inseam, of spending _that much time_ alone with Blaine.

Unless Jeremiah insisted on coming along. 

Kurt couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.

Blaine sat beside him once more, their shoulders knocking together. An attendant flitted past them with a tray of pastries and flutes of champagne, which they happily accepted. 

“Man, this next one must be real tough to get into, if Rachel’s taking this long,” Blaine commented, biting into a macaron. 

“She’s only got time for one or two more, we’ve got to head out soon, too. We can always come back.”

Kurt took a sip of his champagne, glad for the distraction. Truly, he needed to be thinking of anything else but Blaine. 

“What if… well, what if she doesn’t find anything?” Blaine wondered aloud. 

“Come on, this is the first place we’ve been to. She’s only tried on two dresses,” Kurt reasoned.

“No, no, hear me out. What if the only person who knows what she wants is also you?” 

Kurt’s heart stopped. “Absolutely not. Making a tuxedo is one thing, but I’m already man of honor for both of you and the weddings are only two weeks apart, there’s no way _—_ ”

Rachel stepped out, and Kurt was stunned into silence. She looked perfect. The [ dress ](https://www.davidsbridal.com/Product_white-by-vera-wang-pleated-gazar-wedding-dress-vw351576?mr:trackingCode=64F59C54-2E3D-EA11-8111-0050569419E4&mr:referralID=NA&mr:device=c&mr:adType=online&gclid=Cj0KCQjwl4v4BRDaARIsAFjATPnDAeWaQDBEOnGZUA3LiqAnS5legQ_OGvRzF7Dq7Nu7dTkUHKGJrdIaAvGTEALw_wcB&gclsrc=aw.ds) was pure white, with a pleated strapless neckline that led into a satin bow at the waist. The skirt was so full, but so, so delicate, with a slit on the left and a barely-there train on an A-line skirt. And the back, oh, an intricate and beautiful bodice, of course she had taken a bit longer. 

“There’s no way what?” she asked, walking towards the mirrors one more time. Probably the last time, too, if Kurt had any say in it.

“This is a Vera Wang exclusive, the only one in the store,” the attendant announced. She handed Rachel a tiara and looked up at her expectantly.

“Blaine here was suggesting I design your dress, but _this_ is _—_ there’s no way,” Kurt started. “I _—_ there’s no way I could compete with this. I mean, Blaine, do you think there’s anything better than a Vera Wang?”

Rachel smiled, the most genuine smile Kurt had seen all day.

“What do you think, Rachel?” Blaine asked.

“Oh, come on. No Kurt Hummel original could ever beat a Vera Wang,” Kurt laughed. 

Rachel giggled, tears forming in her eyes. Every employee in the store was watching them, watching her. They knew that look.

“Rachel, you have never looked more beautiful,” Kurt said, smiling softly. She laughed, her eyes just a little wet.

“I _—_ this is the one,” she declared, and a cheer rang out through the store. Kurt and Blaine reached up to hug her, very careful with the material of the dress. An attendant led Rachel back to help her out of the dress and walk her through the process of purchase, and Kurt and Blaine sat back, dazed and giddy. 

“Can you believe?” Blaine asked. “One of the biggest decisions of her life, and we were here for it.”

Kurt couldn’t help it, he shed a tear. “We’ve been here for a lot of them.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. Whoever it was could wait, he was with his family. 

* * *

When fifteen minutes had gone by, Rachel had rejoined them in her street clothes with her own champagne flute in hand and Kurt’s phone had not stopped buzzing, he picked up.

“We need to go,” he said. 

“Yes, yes, to the caterer, I know, he can wait,” Rachel giggled, drunk on two drops of champagne and a whole lot more happiness. 

“No. Call an Uber, we need to be at Sue Sylvester’s immediately. She needs all three of us down there, now.”


	4. Chapter Three - Bargaining

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks to Aly and EJ for the ways they've made this story better, the memes, and the support. this is a long one, i hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 3**

“Bargaining” 

“A terrible mistake has been made, one never before occurred in the house of Sylvester.” Sue took a pause and closed her eyes, as if bracing herself for impact. “Your weddings have been booked on the same day.”

Pandemonium probably seemed like an exaggeration, but it was the best way Kurt could describe what happened next. Upon hearing the words that came out of Sue’s mouth, it was like the world stopped. The room was dead silent for a painful ten seconds, and then Kurt felt his throat closing up, like he couldn’t breathe. Rachel let out a small shriek before she could contain herself, and Kurt heard Blaine hyperventilating on his other side _—_ the initial signs of one of his panic attacks. 

It wasn’t just the magnitude of the mistake, or the shock and unexpectedness of Sue’s announcement _—_ the sheer enormity of the implications it held for Blaine and Rachel were too overwhelming. Kurt half expected one of them to pass out, himself included.

It seemed like the world was crashing down on them, in a way because it was.

“Sandy… mixed up the dates,” Sue added, a bit unnecessarily. 

Blaine slumped down onto his chair, defeated. “Is there nothing we can do?”

“Well, there’s definitely something we can do,” Kurt rushed out. “There has to be. Many of our reservations are near-confirmed, we can just reassign the dates, right?”

Sue Sylvester’s stare was hard, and Kurt knew he should’ve kept his mouth shut. 

“The next available date for the Plaza is in June,” she started, peering down at them, almost as if willing them to interrupt her. So of course, Rachel did.

“Oh, that’s perfect, then,” Rachel blurted out. “Blaine’s been pretty indecisive, so it gives him more time to plan!”

Sue held up a finger. “June, three years from now.”

“Even more time for him to save up, I mean, on a _teacher’s_ sala _—_ ” Kurt cut Rachel off before she could say any more, with a nervous laugh.

“Let’s not _—_ let’s not make any rash decisions now, let’s see what we can _do_ , okay, Rach?” 

He turned his head towards Blaine, and his heart almost broke. Blaine’s face held a myriad of emotions, and though Kurt was skilled at reading them, it was pretty hard. The clearest was resignation. He _hated_ that Blaine had already accepted defeat, had already given up and given in so Rachel could have what she wanted. He could see Blaine trying to put himself together, trying to carefully construct his expression into something a lot more neutral, to hide his disappointment, but he failed just enough that Kurt could see it.

He reached out and squeezed Blaine’s shoulder. It wasn’t the most he could offer, and it wasn’t what he would _want_ to offer to his best friend, but he knew it was all he could give. 

Kurt heard Rachel stand, the sound of her heels clicking against the marble floor almost too loud in the silence. He looked up at her, saw her sickly sweet expression. “This is no problem, then, we’ll negotiate. I’ll negotiate, I negotiate for a living _—_ I just made junior partner, the youngest in the history of the firm.” She turned to Blaine. “I’ll get the other bride to switch her date with you.”

* * *

Kurt had not expected to end the day banned from the Bloomingdale’s in Soho, and yet here he was. That was going to be a hard one to explain to Isabelle, given how often he stopped in for work-related purchases. Of course, it wouldn’t have happened if Rachel hadn’t tackled Terri Del Monico (soon to be Schuester) to the ground in the middle of the drinkware aisle, but he also shouldn’t have trusted Rachel to keep her cool for as long as she did.

Really, Rachel had been a little _too_ determined to fix this problem, and that should have been the first sign that things weren’t going to end well. She had hunted down Ryerson, who had only been a few blocks away, sitting at a bar with a box of all his belongings from the office. She had harassed him into revealing who the other bride was, from name down to shoe size. 

For Kurt, that was the moment it turned a little… unethical, so to speak. After getting this poor woman’s name and number, Kurt, Blaine and Rachel all sat down and used every social media and search engine at their disposal until they were able to identify her. They found her Instagram (thankfully not private) and through a perfectly timed story, were able to track her location. 

_“She’s at Bloomingdale’s,” Rachel exclaimed. “Look, see, right in the corner, this lady’s holding the bag!”_

_“Yes, okay, but which Bloomingdale’s?” Blaine asked. “It’s a selfie, it’s not like she geo-tagged it or pinned the location.”_

_“Give me that,” Kurt said, grabbing Rachel’s phone. He zoomed in on the details behind the blond woman, trying to find any features he could to differentiate the location. “This is… This is the Soho location. I recognize that clerk, that’s Estelle! She’s my go-to for client gifts.”_

And so to Soho they went, keeping tabs on Terri’s Instagram to confirm she hadn’t left the store. Once there, Kurt bribed one of his regular clerks with some Vogue perks (perks he full well knew he did not have the clearance to offer), and soon the group was able to locate the exact department Terri was currently in, scanning away for her bridal registry. 

Rachel insisted she be the one to approach Terri, woman to woman, and walked up to the blond before Kurt or Blaine could argue. They spoke in hushed tones, every once in a while glancing over at Kurt and Blaine, only a few feet away. 

Gradually, however, Rachel’s voice rose, becoming more frantic and intense. Terri still seemed unbothered, even as Rachel grew red in the face and squealed out what seemed to be her last plea, “We could be wedding buddies, wouldn’t that be so much fun?”

Kurt and Blaine tentatively approached the women when Terri tensed. “I’d rather die,” she started, her sugary sweet voice at odds with the venom in her words.

Kurt stepped in, putting an arm out in front of Rachel. “Hi, sorry, sorry, um, Terri, is it?”

“Like you somehow seem to know, yes,” she said. “I know my rights, if you don’t leave me alone, I _will_ call the police.”

Blaine let out a nervous laugh behind him, and Kurt blinked. “Oh, there’s _—_ there’s no need for that, we just wanted to talk.”

“And you have, now leave me alone.” She turned her back to them, picking up an ornate champagne flute and checking the price before putting it back down. She looked over her shoulder. “You’re still here?”

“How much?” Rachel blurted out. “We have money, how much will it take?”

Terri had laughed, and that’s all Kurt remembered before Rached lunged, catching him unaware and tackling Terri for all she was worth. 

* * *

Blaine thanked the security guard on their way out, much to Rachel’s chagrin. The three of them walked a few blocks north, almost in a daze.

“We could sue,” Kurt said, as if a lightbulb had just gone off in his head. “We could sue everyone. Sylvester and Sandy and that security guard and everyone.”

“We haven’t put down any deposits yet,” Blaine piped up, a little sullen. “Not on anything that’s time sensitive, anyway,” he added, probably thinking of Rachel’s dress. God, that seemed so long ago to Kurt now, even though it had been two hours at most.

Rachel, walking between the two men, almost aggressively linked her elbows with theirs. “I want you both at my wedding, of course. One of us will just have to get married on a different day.”

“Obviously I feel the same way,” Blaine said, a hard edge to his voice. “If we can’t figure out a way out of this, one of us will just have to be flexible.”

Kurt’s heart jumped. He was used to this kind of railroading from Rachel, but he couldn’t hide how proud he was of Blaine for sticking up for himself. A good portion of their friendship had always consisted of giving into whatever Rachel wanted, she was so insistent and assertive, and Blaine was so generous and kind. 

But the tension… Even with the buzz of the street all around them, the dozens and dozens of people bustling past them on the sidewalk, it was like they were in their own bubble. Nothing but them and the passive aggressive tension they hadn’t created but couldn’t get rid of.

“And, uh, maybe the flexible one shouldn’t be the one who’s been saving for over a decade since they make a pittance and don’t have a trust fund fiance,” Blaine added, only a little bit of resentment in his voice. 

“Or the one of us who’s desperate for the Plaza since it’s the only happy memory they have of their estranged mother,” Rachel said, not hiding the edge in _her_ voice at all.

Kurt spotted a bench just up ahead and unlinked his arm from Rachel’s to point over. “Let’s take a breather, yeah?”

They all took a seat, with Kurt in the middle. The set in Blaine’s shoulders told him everything Kurt needed to know, and as impartial as he wanted to be, he was determined Blaine not get the shit end of the stick for once. 

He took a deep breath. “First, do not interrupt me while I talk. Understood? Nod if you understand.” Both of his friends nodded. Kurt stared straight ahead, knowing that getting the words out would be ten times harder if he was looking at either one of them _—_ these people he loved like family, who were now being forced to make such hard decisions on what should be the happiest time in their life. 

“Okay, I understand this is really, really hard. No one should be put in this position. I love you both, and I will absolutely _not_ be taking sides.” He paused. “It seems like you’re both at a standstill. So, I propose that until you _both_ come to a decision, _neither_ of you can make any decisions. No confirmations, no announcements, no down payments. Both of you have to decide what you want to do. There’s a time limit, of course, Sue needs to know of the cancellation by the end of next week. Until then, I can be a sounding board for both of you and will continue to fulfill my best man and man of honor duties, to the best of my ability. But _by God_ I will not take sides.”

There were a few moments of silence, and then Rachel cleared her throat. “That sounds fair.” She stood up, expressionless, and extended her arm out to Blaine, who shook it with confusion written all over his face. “I’m late to tea with Jessie’s mother. I’ll talk to you guys later.”

She walked off, presumably calling a Lyft on her phone, then turned a corner and was out of sight. 

“Thank you for that, Kurt,” Blaine said, turning to look at him. They were sitting so close, Kurt could count every eyelash fanning across his friends’ cheeks. His breath hitched before he could stop it.

“Of course.”

* * *

What followed was probably the longest week of Kurt’s life. And last year, he’d covered Fashion Week with Isabelle. 

Kurt had been nervous about the plan he had proposed, especially when Sunday came and went and he hadn’t received a single text asking for advice. But it all fell into place Monday morning, when he woke up to a barrage of messages from Jessie, ending with just siren emojis. Clearly at least Rachel had talked to her fiance. He didn’t expect Jeremiah to text him, they weren’t that friendly, but he knew Blaine, and he knew his friend would have to talk to someone about the situation. 

Kurt spent three days dodging calls from Blaine and Rachel _—_ not because he wasn’t following through on his word, but because it had started as increasingly bitchy texts, and he knew the phone calls would be more of the same. 

**Gel-head can’t make a single decision, why should he get the thing I want the most?**

_She’s never made a sacrifice, why can’t she sit this one out?_

**Can you believe Jessie suggested a double wedding? PLEASE. My wedding should be about ME! Is it so crazy to want the spotlight for this one day?**

_Jeremiah started suggesting a double wedding, but I can just see it being all about Rachel, I’d get booted out of my own day, I’d be an afterthought to what Rachel Berry wants. Can I just have one day?_

Isabelle could tell things were dire, especially when Kurt mentioned the Bloomingdale’s incident, but she tried her hardest to keep Kurt busy while he was in the office _—_ which Kurt suspected was so he’d have that excuse when the inevitable texts of “I’ve been trying to get a hold of you all week!” started coming.

Which they did. Wednesday afternoon was just a mess of messages from Rachel, who had upgraded to also using Twitter, Instagram and Facebook Messenger to communicate. Messages Kurt studiously ignored and purposefully did not reply to. 

So imagine his surprise when he walked out of a briefing meeting and saw Rachel sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair with her heels propped on a stack of files. Her face was trying to project nonchalance, as if Rachel was trying to pretend this was something she did regularly, but the truth was she’d never even seen the Vogue office before. Kurt had made sure of that.

But the moment their eyes locked, Rachel righted herself and grabbed her purse and Kurt’s bag. 

“Drinks. Now.” 

* * *

They settled on a familiar bar, equally close to both of their apartments and with a half-off margarita special. Not Kurt’s first choice of drink, but their loaded nachos were his favorite in the city, so he wasn’t one to complain.

The trip to the bar had been tense, though not by any means quiet. Kurt and Rachel talked almost every day, even if sometimes the only form of contact was reacting to each other’s Instagram stories. The few days Kurt had been dodging her had clearly had an effect, and she blabbered away about every minute detail as they walked. Kurt felt a bit guilty, he had deprived one of his best friends of _conversation_ , for God’s sake _—_ though the feeling didn’t last long when she mentioned how she had been looking for the right dietary supplements to be sure her skin glowed and her hair shined _just_ right come October. He tried to hide his scowl, but Rachel changed the subject very quickly. 

After ordering and downing half of their first margarita, Rachel cleared her throat in a very authoritative way. She blanched at Kurt’s glare, though.

“I had to get your attention somehow,” she whined, pleading with her eyes.

“Showing up at my place of work thirty minutes before I’m done was probably not your best idea,” Kurt said, casting his eyes down. He knew he was right, but he also understood where Rachel was coming from. It didn’t help.

“I don’t see a way out, and you’re the person I go to for advice, Kurt,” she said. “I don’t know what to do. I don’t see a way for all of us to just… get our way.”

“I’m not getting in the middle of this. I meant it when I said that,” Kurt cautioned. 

“I know, I know.” Rachel waved his words away, as if she was past accepting them and just needed to be heard. “I just don’t know what to do. Jessie just wants me to move ahead, and… _fuck_ , there’s something I have to tell you.”

Kurt’s eyes widened.

“You’re not _—_?”

“No! No, no, oh my gosh,” she laughed. “No, I _—_ remember that weird show about the Zodiac killer that was in workshops a few months ago? It got traction because Shelby and that one actor who got fired from _Grey’s Anatomy_ were on the cast?”

“Where the hell are you going with this?”

“Ugh, long story short, Shelby’s in the city and… my dads reached out to her about the wedding, and apparently, she said she’d come. But they also said even though they’re workshopping here, the show’s opening in California and she got a few other offers out there and will be out West for the foreseeable future. So, this is… this is kind of my only chance to have my mom at my wedding. You understand why that’s hard to give up, right?” 

“Rachel…” 

“I _—_ I hate this part of myself, this like, dumb little girl inside me who still wants her mom’s approval no matter what, no matter how terribly I’m treated, or how insignificant I’m made to feel, I just…” Rachel sighed, and pulled her phone out of her purse. “She’s been in the city for months and hasn’t reached out, she’s treated me like less than dirt, like I’m so unimportant, and all I want is for her to walk down the aisle with me. Is that so crazy?”

Kurt shut his eyes, tears leaking from the sides. If there was one thing he and Rachel would always have in common, it was Mommy issues. Different, of course. But this was one thing he would always be able to understand.

The waitress brought over his nachos and Rachel’s wrap, and they let the silence settle over them for the first few bites. 

“I… This is really hard, Rach, and I’m sorry,” Kurt started. “I guess I kind of know how you feel, but I’m not in a place to give you any advice. This is a choice you really have to make on your own.”

“But if you could, wouldn’t you do _anything_ to have your mom at your wedding?”

“That’s different and you know it.” Kurt’s tone was final, and he hoped Rachel got it. Their situations, similar as they were, would never be the same.

“But if _—_ ”

“Stop.”

She shifted in her seat. “Jessie keeps saying that if we move it, we can do whatever we want, and we could fly her out from wherever she was. But I don’t want to wait _—_ and I really don’t want to run the risk of changing the date and then Shelby saying no.”

Kurt shook his head. “This is _your_ decision. I said I’m not getting in the middle.”

He continued eating, shooting her a glare every time she started a sentence with a “But I _—_ ” or a “Jessie thinks _—_ ” or the ever famous “Blaine would _—_ ”. Finally, she said, “So your office is actually really nice.”

The conversation was still pretty stilted, and Rachel had a deposition to prep for, so they parted ways an hour later. 

Kurt understood why Rachel was sticking to her guns about this particular issue, even if he didn’t necessarily agree. Shelby was Rachel’s chink in the armor, the one place she wasn’t fearless and defiant. The one person she wanted to impress, no matter where she was in life or how many accolades she had collected or how confident she was. Of _course_ Kurt could understand. 

It didn’t make anything any easier. 

* * *

Badminton had to be the dumbest sport on the planet, and that was Kurt’s official review. It was like sad tennis mixed with a poor man’s volleyball _—_ and it made no sense for Blaine to be coaching a practice. 

Of course, he wasn’t the team’s coach, but Coach Ken Tenaka had a terrible habit of not showing up to practice and making Blaine cover on his off days from Drama Club, and Kurt had promised to help at the beginning of the year, even if it was just being there for moral support.

Moral support, of course, meant orange slices for the kids and a triple shot coffee for Blaine. It was the thought that counted. And it only happened once a month, so Isabelle didn’t mind when he left a couple of hours early to meet Blaine on the field. Kurt was lucky like that. 

And Kurt treasured the few minutes of conversation he got with Blaine as they waited for all the kids to get picked up after practice was over. It was their one-on-one time to catch up with each other _—_ this was the first time all year Kurt had been dreading it.

He trusted Blaine, and he trusted that Blaine would respect Kurt’s decision to not get in the middle of the situation, and that Kurt’s silence had conveyed the message loud and clear. He just didn’t like having this hanging over their heads.

“Thanks for the coffee,” Blaine said softly, sitting next to Kurt on the stands. A warm breeze caressed Kurt’s face, and he turned to his friend. There were only two kids left on the field, looking at their phones and shifting from foot to foot as they waited for their parent (or chauffeur) to pull up. 

“Anytime,” Kurt said, giving his friend a smile.

“The kids love it when you’re here,” Blaine offered, a little awkward.

“They love my heckling, they know this sport is dumber than a bag of rocks,” Kurt laughed. Blaine joined him, the first genuine laugh Kurt had heard in a while.

They settled into a more comfortable silence, Blaine taking a sip of his coffee and letting out a sigh.

“I’m sorry for those texts the other day,” he started. “Jeremiah was sick of my complaining, and I didn’t know who else to turn to. Cooper’s advice was just ‘ _fuck it’_ and my mom tried to give me a couple of pros of changing the date, but also said my nana isn’t doing too well and may not be able to travel in a year, so I’m a little turned around. But I shouldn’t have pushed it on you. I’m really sorry about that. I’m not _—_ it’s like I’m not even mad anymore, I’m just confused.”

Kurt smiled. “I get that, I appreciate you saying that.” _And not showing up at my office unannounced,_ he added in his head.

“I _—_ no, I shouldn’t, you said you weren’t going to pick sides, and I need to respect that.” Blaine shook his head. 

They both started at a car horn being honked, signaling a pickup. Blaine waved at the driver and the student, then sighed and put his head in his hands.

He looked so defeated all Kurt wanted to do was wrap him in a blanket and cuddle him until everything felt alright. 

“You _can_ talk to me, you know,” Kurt said slowly. “I can hear you out, that’s not really choosing a side. That’s just being your friend.”

Blaine’s smile made his heart thump a little painfully, but it was worth it, right?

“I know we all had pretty much the same childhood, but since college, Rachel’s gotten everything she’s ever wanted without having to make a single sacrifice. Meanwhile I live in a cockroach-infested shoebox of an apartment and run at least five different extracurriculars because I wanted to save for my wedding. I _—_ I bend over backwards for everyone. For whatever my parents wanted, for every boyfriend I ever had, for every supervisor I report to, and to her every whim. You know she _hated_ that we roomed together in college, right? That’s why I was so resistant to it, she thought it was unfair that we would have so much time together, even when she never tried to meet up with us and it was always us making the trek to meet her on our time off. I just _—_ it’s like a principle, this is one thing I really don’t want to give into, and it’s like no one understands why, like no one’s on my side.” Blaine ran his fingers through his hair, a little red in the face. “God, even Jeremiah’s mad at me! He thinks I’m making this a much bigger deal than it needs to be. He said if I really cared about my friendship, I’d just do what she wanted to preserve it. But what about her? When has she ever yielded anything for my sake? Why does it have to be me?”

Blaine was so giving, Kurt knew it took a toll on him. And he knew this had hurt him, the situation seemed impossible _—_ he just didn’t know Blaine didn’t have any support.

“Hey, Blaine?” Kurt said softly. 

Blaine lifted his head just a fraction, and Kurt’s heart broke at the tears pooling in his eyes. 

“I’m really proud of you for not giving in,” Kurt said. “Like my dad says, there’s only two things in this life you ever have to do: pay taxes, and die.” Blaine’s chuckle was all Kurt needed. “It doesn’t matter what others think, if you don’t want to bend, you don’t have to. It’s that simple.” 

Kurt paused, and hesitated for just a moment before taking Blaine’s hand in his. Only one student left on the field, too busy on his phone to notice the _very_ emotional adults across the field from him. 

“This venue is important to you, this date is important to you, and it’s not something you have to give up if you don’t want to,” Kurt said. “You have to make this decision, that’s not something I can do, and it’s not something I want to do, anyway. But I have to say, I… I think it’s amazing how strong you’re being about this. I’m proud of you.”

Blaine sniffled. “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry it feels like nobody’s in your corner, but I promise, whatever you choose, it will be great because you will make it great,” Kurt finished. He flashed Blaine an encouraging smile, and tried to ignore the dread that pooled in the pit of his stomach. 

There was no way he could see this ending well.

* * *

_A moment of Sue. And Sue’s omniscience._

The days of the week flew by, and the Anderson and Berry weddings had less than eight hours left to notify the House of Sylvester of a cancellation. 

I’m going to tell you why they didn’t. 

Jessie St. James had a small family, including a very insecure sister with a lot of disposable income. The natural progression to that was plastic surgery. Though their parents were apprehensive about unnecessary procedures, Audrey wore them down by the time she was sixteen _—_ and by the ripe old age of 32, was recovering from her third breast augmentation surgery, not even a full year after her second rhinoplasty and barely six months after her brow lift. 

This was what brought Rachel and Jessie to the upscale stationery boutique on a Saturday afternoon. _Paper & More _ had a large collection of cards, invites, fountain and calligraphy pens _—_ anything one could need, the store sold at an incredibly high price. 

Rachel was rifling through a binder of _Get Well Soon_ cards the clerk had provided, Jessie by her side. 

“I like that one,” he said. “The rose gold lettering will go really well with the flowers my mom left in her room yesterday.”

The clerk nodded, extending her hand to pull the card, but Rachel tsk’d. 

“That’s the one we got her last time, remember? You said the same thing about the flowers,” she pointed out. She examined the next page, flipping it over and moving her left hand around the cards. “What about this one? We’ve never sent her a card with a kitty before.”

“Because she’s allergic _—_ what about the puppy?” 

“No, she got bit by that dog at your uncle’s party, it might trigger her.” Sarah, the clerk, held her laugh, casting down her eyes. She couldn’t afford to alienate another customer, she was already on thin ice for not meeting the quota _—_ and if she didn’t meet the sales minimum by the end of the day, she was as good as fired. 

And what a good thing she looked! This customer, this girl with the boyfriend’s weird sister, was wearing a beautiful, huge, glittering engagement ring. An opportunity Sarah could not pass up.

Rachel pointed at a card and cleared her throat. “We’ll take this one, please. And a mint envelope, if you have it?” 

“Yes, of course, I’ll be right back with that for you,” Sarah said absentmindedly, her mouth moving faster than her mind could catch up. “And may I say, I couldn’t help but notice your gorgeous ring, are you recently engaged?”

Rachel beamed _—_ she loved it when people complimented her ring. “Yes, we’re so excited!” She smiled up at Jessie, who pulled his arm around her, eyes soft. 

“Congratulations!” Sarah exclaimed, closing the card binder. “You know, we have a wonderful selection of very tasteful _Save the Dates_ , if you’re still in the market. I’ll grab them with the rest of your items.”

Sarah turned around before the girl could protest _—_ the moment most brides opened the binder, they were hooked, no matter how adamant they were that _now was not the time, honey_. 

Rachel blinked, watching the sales clerk disappear into the back of the shop. 

“I shouldn’t,” Rachel said. “We promised we wouldn’t make any decisions until we came to a decision.”

Jessie shrugged. “Just tell her we have to go when she comes back, it’s not a big deal.”

“I… but it’s just looking, what harm could it do? I haven’t picked one yet, and we don’t have to buy them today. It’s just looking, right? It can’t hurt,” she reasoned, frowning. 

Jessie opened his mouth, probably in an attempt to comfort or dissuade Rachel, when his phone went off. He fished it out of his pocket. “It’s Jeremiah, he never calls me _—_ I’ll be right back.”

Jessie answered the call just a few steps away from the counter, hushing his tone when the clerk came back.

“Here’s your card, you can sign here and have us seal it for free, or take it home if you prefer,” Sarah offered, handing the delicate card and envelope to the girl. She cleared her throat, nervous. She wasn’t good at selling what people hadn’t already asked for, and she put on a confident voice. She patted the binder of _Save the Dates_ with her hand. “I also brought these out for you, if you’d like to take a peek!”

Rachel beamed, trying to motion Jessie over. 

“I can definitely do that _—_ hold on a second, Rachel’s asking me to _—_ yeah, no, it’ll be a second,” Jessie said into the receiver. “Just look through them, Rach, and show me your favorites. It’s no rush.”

“ _Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt_ ,” Jeremiah said on the other end. “ _Blaine’s birthday is coming up and he’s been talking about wanting to see some show and I didn’t want to forget before I called you._ ”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, we’re just looking at some cards,” Jessie said. “What night did you want tickets for?”

Jessie did his best to speak in a hushed tone and not disturb Rachel, and perhaps because of it Jeremiah heard the sales clerk’s every word. Every word when she asked about the color scheme for the day and if she preferred pure white or an eggshell, ribbon or no ribbon, script or serif fonts.

“ _Where_ are _you guys? Are you painting your apartment or something?_ ” Jeremiah asked.

“We were getting my sister a card and Rachel ended up looking at some Save the Dates, but we’re probably leaving soon,” Jessie answered absentmindedly, looking at his watch. He and Rachel had dinner with his parents tonight, and if he knew his fiance, he knew she’d want to shower and change before then. “Do you want the tickets for the night of Blaine’s birthday, or the weekend? Obviously weekend will be pricier, but I think I can work around that.”

“ _Actually, let me ask him, since I think there’s a recital at the school and I can’t remember if he said he was happy to work it or happy he wasn’t working it, so I’ll call you back,_ ” Jeremiah said with a laugh. “ _S_ _ave the Dates, huh? God, I hope they figure this out soon._ ”

“You know it. Talk to you soon. Yeah, bye.”

Jessie put his phone back in his pocket and walked over to the counter, passing the clerk his credit card and giving Rachel a smile. At least she’d narrowed down to eggshell?

On the other end of the city, Blaine locked the door behind him and put his bag down, hoping Jeremiah had gotten his text about starting a shower for him. Of course, the silence in the apartment was the sign he needed that Jeremiah had been too busy. 

The sight of him laying on the couch with his phone to his ear wasn’t so much infuriating as it was frustrating. Why hadn’t he answered Blaine’s text, then?

“Yeah, thanks, I appreciate it. Okay, later.” He tapped his phone and looked up, locking eyes with Blaine. “Hey, babe, how was practice? Or… was it debate prep?”

Blaine groaned, kicking his shoes off. “It was actually choir rehearsal, and it was fine. It’s on the calendar, remember?”

“Right, yeah, I need to start looking at that.” He drifted off, unlocking his phone and scrolling.

Blaine sighed. He wished Jeremiah was a little more engaged, not just in Blaine’s life but in _theirs_. So often it felt like he was just kind of along for the ride, not really actively participating. Blaine loved him, and he knew Jeremiah loved him, too, why else would he propose? But just once, he’d like to not be the one to have to initiate conversation. 

“So, uh, who was that on the phone? Did your brother call back about the engagement party?” Blaine tried.

“Huh? Oh, uh, no, it was just Jessie _—_ I just wanted to check something,” Jeremiah said absently. “Yeah, he said Rachel was getting like cards or invites or something, you two really gotta figure this thing out.”

Blaine’s face flushed, and he felt his heart beat impossibly fast. “They were _—_ getting? I _—_ I thought I had a few more days, it’s only _—_ We said we wouldn’t do anything until we decided, how is she getting invites?”

Red hot rage pumped in his veins, and Blaine’s thoughts were moving a million miles a minute. How could this happen? How could he be so stupid? Of course Rachel wouldn’t honor their agreement, of course she would go behind his back. She was probably mailing the invites now, and thinking Blaine was none the wiser. 

Rachel, who did everything she wanted, who got everything she wanted, and who now had a rich fiance who could finance anything she wanted. 

“Babe, calm down,” Jeremiah said, barely looking up. 

“You said she was _—_ what exactly did Jessie say?”

“I don’t _—_ they were getting something, I’m pretty sure,” Jeremiah offered uselessly. “I’m sure it’s nothing.”

“It’s not! The whole point is that she’s doing this behind my back, she’s saying her wedding is this day, so nobody else can have it, and she’s forcing me to change our wedding.” Blaine tried to hold in his rage, but hot tears were pooling in his eyes. He was just so beyond tired, so done with being pushed around and stepped on by Rachel’s expensive stiletto heels, by his coworker’s lazy attitudes, by his giving nature, he was… he deserved better.

“You said she was doing invites right? She’s gonna mail them, I know her,” Blaine said suddenly.

Jeremiah heard the edge in Blaine’s voice and finally looked up. His fiance was truly a sight to behold. 

“Babe, let’s not do anything crazy,” Jeremiah said slowly. 

“It’s not crazy, it’s strategic,” Blaine said, pulling out his phone. “I want this date. I want this wedding. I’m not letting her stomp all over me.”

Jeremiah cautioned another look, but Blaine looked calmer as he tapped away on his phone, so he figured everything was fine. 

When he got an Instagram notification that he was tagged in Blaine’s story, though… Maybe he should have intervened. 

“Did you just _—_?”

Blaine nodded. “To everyone but Rachel and Jessie.”

Jeremiah sighed. “Isn’t this just as underhanded as what you think she did?”

“She did it first,” Blaine argued, pulling off his shirt and starting towards the bathroom. “I want to marry you, and I don’t want to wait three years to do it.”

Blaine closed the door to the bathroom, and Jeremiah sat back, looking at the Save the Date Instagram story apparently sent to everyone they knew. At least it was a good picture of them. God, Blaine was so dramatic.

_Now back to the story._

* * *

Kurt had been expecting some kind of bomb to go off, but he hadn’t expected the bomb to be a fucking Instagram story.

But there it was, the second-tackiest _Save The Date_ Kurt had ever seen (his cousin Sarah had had a Minion-themed wedding for some godforsaken reason, and the slip of paper now lived in infamy within his friend group). 

Blaine and Jeremiah, beaming at the camera with their arms around each other, in a picture taken during an apple picking trip last fall. The words “ _Save the Date”_ at the top in Instagram’s awful script font, with the actual date and venue in the bottom corner of the shot. 

“ _Paper invites going out soon!”_ below it, as if this wasn’t enough.

“So much for waiting,” Kurt muttered to himself, closing out of the app.

He knew that Blaine hadn’t wanted to give in, and he knew Rachel probably wasn’t going to, either, and most of all, he knew they weren’t talking to each other. 

And he knew it wasn’t going to end well.

But Kurt had honestly thought it would come down to Sue Sylvester making a decision for one of them. Either Rachel’s outrageous demands wouldn’t be met, or Blaine’s hopes of a fabulous wedding on a budget would be dashed, but Kurt always thought Sylvester would be the one to make the call, once all three went to her to say they were at a standstill. 

There was a finality to posting a notice, telegraphing the date to all their friends. The majority of them had known, of course, and the building tension had been enough to garner a few cancellations to the engagement party on Sunday, but now they all _knew_. Now everyone knew some sort of decision had been reached.

Kurt just hoped it was something they could walk back, something they could recover from. 

He shook his head and stepped in the shower. There was nothing more he could do, was there?

* * *

The week had felt eternal _—_ and Kurt still had Blaine and Rachel’s engagement party on Sunday. At least everything had been planned in advance, and all he had to do was arrive at the venue an hour early to make sure all the decorations and food were in place. He was glad they’d decided on the cash bar, even if he knew some members of their friend group would think it was tacky _—_ he really needed everyone to keep their cool. If one thing went wrong, Kurt didn’t know what he’d do. 

The party was in a cute little tea room in a hotel halfway between Blaine and Rachel’s apartments, elegant but with a homey feel that felt like the perfect blend of Rachel and Blaine. _If only everything else could be, too_ , Kurt thought to himself.

Kurt called them separately as he inspected the flower arrangements, pleading with them to behave. 

They hadn’t come to a conclusion, and though Blaine’s Instagram story was a little decisive, he knew Blaine could walk it back if he wanted to. Kurt knew they were upset, especially with each other, but he held out hope that it wouldn’t affect the rest of the party. 

“I worked really hard on this party, I called in like four separate Vogue favors, and if your attitude messes this up, I swear to _god_ you won’t live long enough to even get married,” he said.

He didn’t let the calls go on long enough for them to argue, anyway. 

Guests started arriving before Blaine or Rachel, but that was all fine. Kurt got most of his nervous energy out of the way arguing with Santana over the cash bar and the lack of chocolate fountain _—_ what did she expect? _—_ and by the time the room was packed, he was almost relaxed. 

Kurt mingled with guests, complimented shoes and manicures, accepted well-earned praise on the decor and sampling of food, and was able to enjoy himself for a whole thirty minutes before Rachel arrived.

And boy, did she arrive. 

A gaggle of cheers erupted from the front of the room, signaling her entrance. Rachel’s loud giggles were enough for Kurt to know she had, as the kids called it, pre-gamed, and he only needed to be within a foot of her to confirm. 

She looked fabulous, though, in a bright pink dress and stiletto heels to match. Her hair was piled on her head in an elegant bun, her bangs pushed artfully to the side, and her makeup flawless. If this was any indication to how she expected the day to go, Kurt was a bit relieved. There was no way she was getting in a fight while looking this gorgeous, in such precarious shoes and with such a delicate hair style. It looked like if she made one false move, the entire bun would come crumbling down. 

“Oh, Kurt, hi!” she squealed, handing someone her purse. “Thank you so much for putting this together for me! You’re such an amazing friend!”

Kurt hugged her, bringing her close to whisper in her ear. “Rachel, how much did you have?”

She laughed, and he was sure the guests on the 10th floor could hear her. “Well I remembered it was a cash bar and I wanted to be happy, so I just had some _—_ some champagne. Jessie said I should take it easy and have one, so I did!”

“One glass?” Tina supplied, looking between the two of them.

“One bottle!” Rachel laughed, throwing her head back. Her hair stayed conspicuously in place. “I _—_ had some food, too, though.”

“How about we grab you a coffee before you get sick _—_ because of the carbonation!” Kurt added quickly.

“Coffee… mmmmm,” Rachel hummed as Tina held her arm, walking her towards the back. The coffee service wasn’t extensive, but it was coffee, right?

“Why is this such a mess just waiting to happen?” Santana said, taking a sip of her drink.

“Stop it,” Kurt said, finality in his tone.

“I’m just saying, if Blainers shows up wasted, there’s no way this doesn’t go off the rails before the cake gets brought out.” Her raised eyebrow told Kurt that was actually exactly what she wanted to happen. 

He smirked and walked off, about to check the playlist and maybe move it to the more dance-y songs, when he heard Kitty and Rachel. It was like _Kill Bill_ -style sirens went off in his head, and Kurt rushed over as quickly as he could. 

“ _—_ so sorry you won’t get to share the Plaza with your mom, I know how important it was to you,” Kitty said in an overly concerned tone. 

“Thanks, Kitty,” Rachel said in a deflated tone. “I’ve moved on, you know?”

Kurt wanted nothing more than to wipe the smirk off Kitty’s face. “Oh, wow, that’s really noble of you, especially with what Blaine did…”

The sirens in Kurt’s head hit a critical volume, but even as he rushed over to them to do some damage control, he knew there was nothing he could do.

“What… what the hell are you talking about?”

“The Instagram story? As his _Save the Date_?” Kitty phrased the questions as if they were obvious, though it could not have been clearer that Rachel had no idea what she meant. “So tacky, I hope he springs for the actual invitations.”

And before Kurt can so much as look at Rachel, there’s another gaggle of cheers near the front, signalling Blaine’s arrival.

“Rachel, please be civil.”

“I’ll civilly give him a piece of my mind,” she nearly shouted, her voice rising with her. She downed the rest of her coffee, standing a lot more confidently than Kurt thought possible. 

She set off, and Kurt shot Kitty a glare before following after her. 

_Fuck._

Blaine looked so happy, being received at the door by his friends, laughing and being handed a glass of champagne, Kurt was almost sad about the Rachel-sized storm coming his way. Almost, because truly this one, Blaine had earned.

His eyes widened as Rachel approached him, and his smile started to follow suit _—_ until he saw the fury in her eyes.

“Hi Rachel,” he said, voice clipped in a way Kurt hadn’t heard before. 

“You sent out your _Save the Dates_ ,” Rachel stated. No preamble, no question. 

“Why don’t we _—_ let’s take this _private_ conversation to a more private setting,” Kurt said, trying to get between them. He made eyes at the circle of friends surrounding them, but no one moved. The week had been tense, and even if they hadn’t been that close to the situation, they wanted to watch the tension blow. 

Their friends lived for the drama. 

Except for Mercedes, god bless her soul. She nodded absently, taking a sip of her drink and walking away.

“You think you always know what’s best, Rachel. This time, I decided for myself,” Blaine said, his eyes steeling for her next rebuttal. Like he’d practiced what he’d say in the mirror, like he knew there was no way they wouldn’t have this fight.

“Oh please, you _love_ it,” Rachel laughed. “You love it from Kurt, and you love it from me.”

Kurt took a step back. “Please leave me out of this.”

It was as if no one had heard him. 

“You’ve never had a spine, it’s not like you can grow one now,” she railed on. 

“Watch it,” Blaine said, trying his hardest to sound authoritative. Maybe this was the teacher voice Kurt had heard so much about?

“People are always making you do things you don’t want to do, deciding things for you. That lazy badminton coach, that drunk principal.” Rachel scoffed. “It’s funny it doesn’t bother you till now.”

Blaine laughed. “Well, no one can accuse you of ever even asking for help.” Blaine cocked his head dramatically. “Or... or anything. You took that date without even asking. Did you know that was me and Jeremiah’s anniversary? It didn’t occur to you that we’d want to get married on our anniversary?”

“God, at least I _make_ decisions,” Rachel started, swinging her arms around in a way that had Kurt a little worried about her balance. “At least I’m not so afraid of being alone, I people-please my way through life.” She narrowed her eyes, and put a hand on Blaine’s shoulder. “Blaine, you _settle_. You applied for choir master and settled for… whatever your position is.”

“It’s choir _director_ , actually.” Blaine violently shook his shoulder, shrugging off her hand. “Wait _—_ I… Are _—_ are you saying I’m settling with Jeremiah?”

“You got there all on your own, babe, all of us saw that leap, right, Kurt?”

“I would very much like to be excluded from this narrative, thanks,” Kurt supplied uselessly. The room was on pins and needles, and no matter how he tried, there was no real way he could defuse the tension now. 

Blaine squared his shoulders. “Move. Your. Date.” 

“Move your date, Blaine,” Rachel said easily. 

“It’s done. Cooper already RSVP’d from his shoot in Australia,” Blaine said, his hand moving just a little more stiffly than he probably wanted. “You lose.”

The silence in the room was deafening. 

“Your wedding better watch it.”

Kurt took a step forward, trying to get in between them. “Hey, hey, we’re all friends here,” he tried to say, but Blaine moved past him, not even listening.

“What did you just say?”

“Oh, you heard me,” Rachel said.

“Save your threats for Jessie. After all, isn’t that how you got him to propose?”

The gasps from everyone in the room were a little too much for Kurt. 

“Your wedding can suck it,” Rachel said, making to move past Blaine. “In fact, your wedding _will_ suck it, I’ll make sure of it.”

That was clearly not something Blaine had prepared for, stuttering through his comeback. “There will be _—_ there will be dicks that’s for sure. But at least this asshole won’t be there!”

Rachel brushed past him, grabbing her purse from Tina. “Please,” she said airily, as if she couldn’t be bothered. 

“Hey Rachel,” Blaine called. “Your wedding will be huge.” She gave him a fake smile, but the stiffness in her frame betrayed her. “Just like that zit on your forehead at prom.”

Rachel’s eyes widened and she uttered a, “ _Fuck. You._ ” as she stormed out, leaving laughs and hollers in her wake. Blaine let out a sigh, then sunk into a nearby chair. 

The party music seemed really out of place, and decorations just mocked Kurt at this point.

_How can I fix this?_ Kurt thought. _Is there even a way to fix this? Those were fighting words, there’s no going back now, oh god, oh fuck fuck fuck. I know I encouraged Blaine, but god, this is a lot, fuck fuck._

There was no going back now. A look at Blaine told him that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way. 


	5. Chapter Four (A) - Sa-Bo-Taaaaage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so this chapter is split in two parts, because it's pretty long and because i like even numbers. 
> 
> and as always, thanks to Aly and EJ for being absolute complete rockstars with their suggestions, memes and moral support. y'all are THE best.

**Chapter Four (A)**

“Sa-Bo-Taaaaage”

Both invites arrived in the mail within weeks. Very classy, beautiful invites that Kurt didn’t help pick out. 

Kurt knew that, left to their own devices, Rachel and Blaine weren’t making the soundest of decisions, but he also knew he couldn’t help either one of them. Taking himself out of the equation was the only way to maintain a friendship with both of them _—_ though he questioned that decision daily, at this point. Not because he preferred one friendship over the other, but because both of them had become a tad… infuriating since the fight at the party. 

However, the other thing that arrived in the mail made him infinitely more upset. 

It was a small, crumpled envelope from his dad. Not quite flat, but obviously not a package either. And strange in its very existence _—_ Burt was not a many-worded man, he called whenever he had something to tell Kurt, and answered Kurt’s call every time it rang. They texted and FaceTimed, but writing had never been something they did. 

Kurt hastily opened the envelope, pulling out two sheets of paper. 

_Dear Kurt,_

_I feel silly writing this when I could just call, but I know it’s not what your mother would want. Granted, she didn’t know if I used the Face Time I could just see your face, but that’s not the point._

_When you guys were young, you went to New York and had tea at some fancy hotel. As LeRoy tells it, you guys all ran off and came back clutching this piece of blue ribbon like it was magic. You took turns holding it, trying to keep it safe. Apparently, Blaine thought you should keep it because it looked just like your eyes._

_When you got home, you wouldn’t leave it out of your sight. Your mom finally convinced you to lock it someplace safe — and it was in her dresser for years. When we moved to the new house, I found it. Along with a note she left behind with very specific instructions. I thought it was time you got it._

_I hope everything’s okay, and you’re writing a lot. Call me soon. Come home soon, too, Carole misses you. And of course, I miss you, too. Hell, the guys at the shop miss you._

_I love you._

_-Dad_

Kurt was a little teary-eyed, but pulled open the much older, time-stained note. He recognized it instantly _—_ it was from the notepad his mother used to keep on her dresser, with lilies around the edges of the paper. On the back side, it read, _“Do not open until Rachel, Kurt or Blaine get engaged.”_

Kurt couldn’t bring himself to open the note, he knew what it would say. He was overwhelmed just by seeing his mother’s handwriting, something he thought he’d never see again. Imagining the new words he’d get to read, the last new thing he would ever get from his mother _—_ it wasn’t something he could handle at the moment. 

He flipped the envelope, and out fell a light blue satin ribbon. He remembered it well, he remembered what they had all promised it would be, and he knew there was no way he could give this to either one of them without annihilating his friendship with the other.

No, Rachel and Blaine would fight over the ribbon to the point it would lose its meaning. And quite honestly, neither one of them deserved it at the moment. 

* * *

The weeks that followed, stepping into the beginning of summer, should have been the best time of their wedding planning. Kurt should have been going to final cake tastings, attending walk-throughs in each venue to confirm their décor, interviewing potential bands or DJs for the receptions. He was supposed to be at the stage where larger details were close to being nailed down, guest lists were in their final stages and menus and flower arrangements were all but confirmed. He was really, truly, supposed to be helping his two best friends plan the day they’d all been looking forward to since they were children, running to and from appointments and dealing with the emotions that went with it all _—_ in other words, having the time of his life. 

Instead, Kurt was cooped up in his apartment, alone, writing like there was no tomorrow. It’s not like he could take his laptop to Central Park, the glare from the sunlight was terrible on his screen, and he was not a pen and paper person. 

Oh, Rachel was wedding planning, of course, and she made sure everyone knew. She’d been spending a lot of time with her newly appointed man of honor, Elliot _—_ who also happened to be her newly appointed assistant, since she’d made junior partner. Kurt didn’t know this from talking to her, it was just plastered all over her social media. Every other post or story was about her wonderful new “best gay” and how fabulous he was _—_ and Kurt knew it was a dig at Blaine, not him, but it was still ridiculous.

He actually knew Elliot, and while he was a great guy and had a fantastic work ethic, Kurt had a feeling he wasn’t really enjoying his time as his boss’s best gay. Or man of honor. 

But Rachel was at least faring better than Blaine. Kurt practically had to drag it out of him when he asked who the new best man was. And as soon as Blaine admitted it, Kurt _immediately_ felt sorry for him. He almost went back on his word just to help Blaine out. 

Because apparently, when April Rhodes heard of Blaine’s plight, she offered to sing at his wedding (but only if there was an open bar), and said she’d draw too much attention as maid of honor, but _oh, you darling boy, you know who would be great? I’ve been seeing that Ken Tenaka on the side, and he’s got nothin’ going on, he won’t draw any attention standing next to you!_

Blaine even imitated her voice’s twang over the phone, just to give Kurt the most complete image possible. 

Kurt still did after work drinks with Rachel, though wedding talk was off limits, and went over to Blaine’s for their once-a-month movie night they’d established during college. He did his best to keep things light, keep things civil and be as impartial as possible, but it seemed like an impossible task.

Rachel wore him down one evening, and the following Saturday, he was taste-testing her final cake choices at Clementine Bakery, an adorable upscale bakery in Brooklyn. This of course, because Rachel couldn’t try the non-vegan cake she and Jessie had settled on serving for guests, and Jessie was out of town on business. And Elliot apparently had a hard _no_ on any cake and dinner service-related wedding planning, something about not having the patience to deal with Rachel’s palette _—_ which Kurt couldn’t blame him for. 

“It’s just this last one, Jessie wanted this chocolate, but if it’s too moist, I might go back and have them do the vanilla bean,” Rachel prattled on, pushing plates toward Kurt. “It’s always a crowd pleaser, and the vegan cake is basically just for me and my dads.”

“Rachel, this chocolate is perfect,” Kurt said, pushing the other plates back. “Jessie gets a say, too, you know.”

“Of course he does _—_ he’s become a lot more involved since… well, you know,” Rachel reasoned, trying to flag down the chef from the back. “He’s actually helped me a lot, I just don’t want the chocolate to be the thing that sinks the wedding. It just feels like if one thing goes wrong, if I make one choice that’s not perfect, it all just falls apart.”

Kurt sighed. “I’m sure everything will work out. It’s _your_ wedding, there’s no way it won’t be perfect.”

He could see in her eyes that Rachel wanted him to say more, that she wanted him to take the bait and comfort her and talk all about the wedding and everything that was bothering her. He could see how deflated she became when he stayed silent and left it at that. And he felt terrible. 

Could he still call himself her best friend if he didn’t allow her these things? If he wasn’t there for her as fully as he should be?

* * *

He didn’t know the answer, but he knew it wouldn’t be fair either way. 

Once Isabelle pointed it out to him during their meeting, it was impossible for Kurt not to see it. Even if he hadn’t meant to, by going cake tasting with Rachel, he’d contributed to her wedding in a way he hadn’t to Blaine’s _—_ which could be seen as taking sides. And though he hoped Blaine wouldn’t see it that way if he were to find out, he also knew Jeremiah. And he knew Jeremiah would use any excuse to make Kurt out to be the bad guy. 

He’d always wondered what exactly was the source of Jeremiah’s animosity towards him, but every time he brought it up to Blaine, his friend just brushed it off. He assumed it had something to do with the first time they met, when Blaine had brought him home for Christmas _—_ the Hummel-Hudsons, Andersons and Berrys had all kept their Christmas lunch tradition, and it was the Andersons’ time to host. Jeremiah had seen the way Blaine’s parents doted on Kurt, had seen how easily Cooper joked with him, how part of the family he already was. Even if Blaine had promised he’d reassured Jeremiah dozens of times that there had only been friendship between himself and Kurt, that afternoon seemed to replay in his mind every time they saw each other. Jeremiah was always possessive when Kurt was around, putting him in his place, so to speak, as if to make sure Kurt knew who was the boyfriend. 

It had its intended effect. 

So when Blaine mentioned struggling between two centerpieces during their movie night, Kurt jumped at the chance to help. The gardenias went better with the flavor profile of their signature cocktail anyway. 

“That’s perfect, Kurt, thank you so much,” Blaine said, hugging him close. “I’ll call the guy first thing tomorrow! Once that’s settled, I can finalize the rest of the decor decisions from there _—_ Ms. Sylvester will be so happy, I’ve been cutting it close with a lot of my decisions with this stuff.”

For a brief moment, Kurt pictured what it would be like to help Blaine with those decisions. To be picking out a centerpiece with Blaine, to have designed the signature cocktail, to finalize the decor for the reception _—_ not _for_ Blaine, but _with_ him. He shook himself out of that train of thought before it could get to more dangerous territory.

“You’re doing it all by yourself?” Kurt asked, rubbing the back of his neck. He knew he shouldn’t ask, he knew he’d get too involved too quickly and wouldn’t be able to easily detach himself, but goddammit, he couldn’t help himself.

“Well, Tenaka’s not really a… helpful guy,” Blaine said slowly. “He’s really just the title. But Jeremiah had already gotten his wedding party together, so it’s not like I could _not_ have a best man, and I can’t _—_ you know.”

Kurt nodded, regret all over his face, too. 

“I just feel bad, like I’m getting all the Kurt expertise,” Blaine said suddenly, their movie forgotten. Whatever, who cares about _Casablanca_ , right? 

“Huh?”

“I mean,” Blaine started, suddenly nervous. “You’re still making my tux, right?” 

Kurt’s heart sank. _Of course_. In the middle of everything, and then the aftermath of the party, he’d forgotten what all the swatches of different fabric at the back of his closet were even _for_. 

“That deadline’s coming up soon, and I trust whatever you come up with, but Jeremiah has to match at least a little, and Ms. Sylvester’s gonna be up my ass if we get to August and neither of us has the final choice picked out.” Blaine shrugged, but it was a bit forced. He could sense this was not ideal. 

“I… yeah, of course,” Kurt said. “I have some swatches of fabric from before… you know. Um, anyway, I had picked a few things out that I thought could work pretty well, based on the direction we’d been going in _—_ which, I guess some stuff has changed, but _—_ um. You could come over some time after work next week and check them out, and if you don’t like any of them, we can go look one day and go from there.” Kurt took a deep breath, his heart racing. “I’m more than happy to do this for you, to help however I can, so whatever works for you.”

They agreed on a day to get takeout and meet at Kurt’s, and then completely abandoned the movie to go over the decisions Blaine had already finalized, to make sure Kurt was prepared for the design profile of the wedding, and thereby the tux. 

Kurt walked home, his head a complete mess. It was ten times worse than when he had helped Rachel _—_ this was _making_ a central piece of the fucking wedding, not just confirming if chocolate cake tasted right! 

And _fuck_ , his heart _hurt_. More than anything, he wanted Blaine to be happy, but the entire thing seemed to take such a toll on him, Kurt couldn’t tell if Blaine was enjoying himself anymore. Of course wedding planning was stressful, and of course Kurt wished for things to be different (and he knew Blaine did, too, even if not in the same way Kurt did), but none of this felt right, none of it was fair. 

And Kurt just felt caught in the middle, like every time he tried to make something right, he just wronged someone else. He should just stick to writing his little stories and op-eds, and not come out of his apartment ever again. He could get groceries delivered, everything would be fine. 

But Blaine’s smile was, once again, everything Kurt wanted. 

* * *

And then the real bullshit started. 

Kurt wasn’t the first to hear about it, of course. Though he had warned all their friends to stay out of the fight and that he wasn’t going to play referee, Kitty called him. 

“They’re on the offensive,” she said, no preamble.

“No hello?” 

“This is more important than a hello, Kurtie!” she snapped. “I have a friend who’s dating a friend of that one guy with the long hair in that cover band Rachel likes, The Streisandettes, he told me that they were booked for a wedding.”

“So?”

“ _Rachel_ ’s not the one that booked them.”

Kurt sighed. “Kitty, what exactly are you insinuating?”

“I’m _telling_ you that Blaine booked Rachel’s favorite cover band to spite her,” she said. “Thought it might be some information you’d be interested in."

“I’m sure Blaine wouldn’t do anything like that.”

It turned out Blaine had. And it started a vicious cycle that Kurt was in no way involved in but also somehow completely privy to. 

First, Blaine booked the cover band. 

Apparently, one April Rhodes had heard about his plight third-hand, and taken it upon herself to give Blaine unsolicited advice. From what Kurt knew, he’d mostly ignored her, but apparently the story of how April had sabotaged a bride to the point she gave up on the wedding all so April could swoop in and steal the groom… though not the exact goal, the methods seemed to have seeped into Blaine’s mind a little too much. To the point he threw the first brick. 

Rachel fired back by spending an inordinate amount of money on having sweets delivered to Blaine at all times, though always anonymously _—_ admittedly, this one took a while for Blaine to figure out. 

They were a few weeks into preparing his tux, the design finalized, when Kurt noticed Blaine’s waist measurement was steadily going up _—_ and while sometimes stress manifested in weight gain, that was not something ever present in Blaine.

“I _—_ please don’t take this the wrong way, Bee,” Kurt started, looking at the measuring tape again. 

“That’s the best way to start a sentence, Kurt, thanks,” Blaine said, looking down at him.

Kurt stood, and squared his shoulders. “This is the fourth fitting in like two weeks that your waist measurement has gotten a bit bigger. Is everything okay?”

“Oh, that!” Blaine brightened. “I guess I’ve been eating more _—_ Jeremiah’s been sending me all these treats while I’m working summer school. First was this awesome basket of assorted cronuts, and then sugar cookies, and chocolate covered raisins, and then chocolate lollipops _—_ I guess he knows how stressed out I’ve been, it’s been really nice.” He took a beat. “Oh, but if it means I won’t fit into the pants, I can ask him to stop. It’s not like it’ll be that big a deal. And we can do a few alterations, right?”

Kurt’s heart sank. 

“Blaine… does that sound like something Jeremiah would do?” he asked. “I mean, he’s great and all, but he’s never been that kind of guy, I don’t know if he would start now, you know?”

Realization sunk in, and Blaine’s eyes widened. “... _Fuck_.”

And so it went on. 

Blaine sent an engagement announcement to their local newspaper in Lima, and his favorite headshot along with it. He _also_ sent an engagement announcement on behalf of Rachel, because for some reason that was something he could do without her written consent, and used a backstage picture of Rachel from when she was seven years old _—_ after a production of _Into the Woods_ where she’d played Milky White, the cow.

Elliot actually called Kurt when a copy was delivered to their office, because Rachel was going nuclear and apparently cancelled all her meetings for the rest of the day. Which… probably didn’t go over well with her clients, but clearly she didn’t care.

The next obvious step was sabotaging Jeremiah and Blaine’s session with a classic dance instructor. Through Ms. Sylvester, they had gotten a one-time three-hour appointment with _the_ most coveted dance instructor in all of New York. A gay man himself, Martin Jones specialized in LGBTQIA+ couples and deconstructing the gender norms so prevalent to the foundation of ballroom dance, and was incredibly famous for constructing dance routines unique to couples, where they switched in leading, where a story was told, where both people felt comfortable. 

Rachel somehow reached out to the instructor and advised him of a “mix up” and changed their time, and sent another guy ahead. And so Blaine and Jeremiah spent three hours with an aggressively homophobic kook who, on account of Blaine being the shorter of the two, forced Jeremiah to lead in an unnecessarily sexually charged tango that, sparing the details, left them exhausted and embarrassed at the way they’d forced their bodies to move. 

Only to have Jones arrive and put them through the ringer again. 

At this point, Kurt warned Rachel that enough was enough, and told Blaine that maybe he should focus his energy on finalizing some more details for the wedding, but it all seemed to fall on deaf ears. 

It was like the weddings themselves didn’t matter anymore _—_ only sabotaging the other one did.

And Kurt was powerless to stop it.

* * *

The next hit, Kurt was happy to pin on Santana, though he knew it stemmed from Blaine. 

See, as Kurt heard it, Blaine had invited Santana, Quinn and a few other friends to a Saturday brunch. As Tina told the story, it had seemed innocent enough _—_ Blaine had started by thanking them for coming and for not taking sides, and said they were all welcome to the wedding and reception, and would not be offended if they went to his wedding and Rachel’s reception or vice versa, and had seemed really excited about it all. And then he let it slip that, well, you know, he’s excited, he’s been saving up for a big wedding his whole life, he was just so excited to marry Jeremiah, he wondered why Rachel was rushing down the aisle. _“And you know, she’s probably got a bun in the oven, that’s why, right?”_

By the following Monday night, Rachel and Jessie’s apartment was filled to the brim with baby toys, clothes and diapers. The incoherent call Kurt received confirmed it. 

Rachel, in turn, “confided” in Santana that she was “worried” about Blaine. And Santana knew she was feeding the flames for no reason, spreading the rumor, but Kurt thought she was just having too much fun to care. 

“ _Supposedly, that’s why Blaine’s pouring all this money into the wedding and was so insistent on it happening now_ ,” Santana had said on the phone, Kurt rolling his eyes. “ _Jeremiah’s cheating on him with some guy in the Gap stockroom, or like one of the models from the store next door, and Blaine wrote in his prenup that if there was infidelity, then Jeremiah got nothing in the divorce. He wants to put it on lock before it’s too late._ ”

“Santana, they’re not doing a prenup,” Kurt had replied, rolling his eyes. “Also, the store next to the Gap is a LensCrafters, there’s no models there.”

“ _Whatever, I’m just telling you what I heard_ ,” she had snapped. “ _Anyway, I’ll talk to you later._ ”

“Hey, don’t spread this, you know it’s a lie,” Kurt had said, but it was too late _—_ she’d already hung up, probably on to the next call.

And then it got… ugly. 

As in, bodily ugly. 

Somehow, Blaine got a hold of Rachel’s schedule and saw she was fit for her first of four spray tan appointments _—_ something about building up to the perfect October bridal glow. 

He called Kurt for assistance, asking if he knew what the darkest spray tan shade was before it bordered on Black face, but once Kurt pried a little more, he tried to shut it down.

“Blaine, that’s her skin, it’s not worth it,” Kurt tried. 

“And this is my _life_ and she continues messing with it,” Blaine said. “If you’re not going to help me, I’ll figure it out, but I’m not going to take the high road _—_ she sure as hell hasn’t.”

“When does this _stop_?” 

“I’ll let you know when we figure it out,” Blaine said, finality in his tone. And also uncertainty. He seemed as unsure about the entire thing as Kurt was, but he wasn’t backing down. 

And the next time Kurt met Rachel for drinks, she was bright orange. 

“I took three showers and four baths, Kurt!” she whined. “I look worse than the oompa loompas!”

Kurt took a sip of his drink, avoiding her gaze. He couldn’t _believe_ this. 

“At _—_ at least the wedding’s not for a few months, you’ll have time for this to come off, right?” he asked.

“I still have to go to work like this! I have a court date in a week! What client is going to take me seriously like this? What _judge —_ fuck, what _jury_ is going to trust an attorney who can’t even tan right?!” 

Rachel had a point there, and Kurt did his best to keep a neutral face. “What did Jessie say?”

She sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “After the whole baby fiasco, he was just glad his parents weren’t involved. Apparently his mom’s side of the family is really Catholic, and they were already mad about us living together before marriage _—_ so the baby thing almost made them cancel the wedding. Not that _—_ not that they could, you know? But Jessie really wants them at the wedding, and it took a lot of convincing and an actual pregnancy test done by a doctor of their choice to convince them it was a rumor. And they’re still on the fence.”

Kurt groaned. They were wrecking their friendship, and for _what_? He feared soon enough, one of them would do something they couldn’t come back from. 

“I told you guys to stop before it got too carried away,” he started.

“Yeah, yeah, and we didn’t listen, blah blah blah,” she said, picking at her vegan nachos. “I’m just _—_ wait, you don’t want to hear it, that’s fine. So tell me, what happened to that story you submitted to _The New Yorker_ last week?”

* * *

Though Kurt knew Rachel well enough to know she’d get even, when two weeks passed and everything seemed calm, he thought the worst was over. August was soon approaching, Blaine’s tux was almost done, and the deadline to RSVP to both weddings was closer than Kurt would like.

Kurt had been feeling pretty okay about the situation, all things considered. He still had no idea what he was going to do about the weddings, but it seemed like the drama was behind them, Rachel’s skin was _almost_ normal, and Isabelle had set him up with a project at Vogue.com that basically amounted to a promotion. 

He was humming around, preparing tea for his and Blaine’s last fitting before freezing the design for the tux, when three raps on his door brought him out of his reverie. 

Blaine was early. And bleach blond. 

“I don’t know _how_ she pulled this off,” Blaine ranted, stomping into the apartment without so much as a _hello_ . “But I _—_ _what do I do_?”

Well, it wasn’t so much blond as that weird orange color bleach becomes when it interacts badly with dark hair. 

“I was _—_ Jeremiah suggested I just shave my head, it’ll grow back, whatever, but it won’t grow back by October,” he continued. “I was just there to do this curl treatment Ms. Sylvester suggested, as a practice run for the wedding, and she _—_ she must have slipped in the bleach on the solution. I _—_ _help_ me.”

Blaine was close to tears, red in the face, pulling at his hair. 

“Let me get you a hat, we’ll figure something out.” A lightbulb went off in Kurt’s head. “I have no idea how this didn’t occur to the stylist, but you could just _—_ re-dye your hair to _your_ color, or the closest approximation, until it grows out?”

And just like that, a little bit of light flickered in Blaine’s eyes. 

* * *

Of course, nothing good seemed to last very long. 

The following Monday morning, Kurt received an SOS text from Blaine _—_ something that, in their friendship, was only reserved for the deepest emotional or mental distress. 

_SOS — Scratches, 6PM_

Kurt confirmed, though for no real reason _—_ unless he was dead, Blaine knew he’d turn up. 

And then Kurt promptly spent the rest of the day worrying about what possibly could have caused Blaine to send an SOS text. He came up with nothing, and couldn’t ease his mind at all.

So much so, when Blaine arrived at the bar, Kurt was on his second drink, and halfway through his fried pickles. He’d ordered a drink for Blaine, but had convinced himself to finish his, maybe that would calm him down.

“Thanks for meeting me, I know I didn’t give you much of a heads up,” Blaine started, giving him a small smile.

“It’s an _SOS_ , there’s no need,” Kurt replied easily. Maybe a little too easily, but Blaine’s smile only widened.

“Yeah, I guess so,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I still _—_ thank you.”

Blaine took a sip of his drink, and then took a deep breath. And then another. And a few seconds later, another.

“I _—_ Blaine, is everything okay?”

“I… I _think_ so,” Blaine started, a bit breathless, somehow. “But I _—_ I guess I’m confused.”

Before Kurt could help it, his heart started beating a million miles a minute. 

“I think I just needed someone to talk this through, and obviously it couldn’t be Jeremiah,” Blaine continued, not noticing the change in Kurt’s demeanor. “He just _—_ he said something that really bothered me, and I’m not sure what to do about it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” Kurt said, trying to sound calm _—_ but to him, it sounded like it just came out in a rush of air. He had no idea how Blaine understood him, but he launched into his story nonetheless.

“I _—_ okay, so I told you about how mad he was after the whole dance instructor thing, right? He already thought it was stupid and we could just figure out something from a YouTube video, but he went along with it, and then when that weirdo showed up, and then the other guy showed up, he was… he made it pretty clear he was to be kept out of any wedding shenanigans, as he called it. Not that I’m controlling any of her sabotage attempts or even _know_ they’re coming _—_ fuck, if I did, would I be walking around with orange hair? So he… I was getting ready for bed last night, and he was just talking about my hair, and all this nonsense and everything, and he just said how he felt sorry for Jessie, and how Jessie wouldn’t be able to control his own _wife_ , and I…”

Kurt took a breath to steady himself. “Does he know it’s the 21st century? Does he know women are people, too?”

“Well, aside from that, it was just this thing of… he’s not been really supportive of me doing all this stuff by myself, but he thinks it’s downright crazy that I’m stooping to her level _—_ his words, not mine. And when I ask him what he means, he just brushes me off.”

“Is he… is it the fighting, or something else?” Kurt asked. There seemed to be a _lot_ to unpack, and a lot unsaid, but Kurt still wasn’t sure what was bothering Blaine. Or if Blaine had even pinpointed what that was.

“I mean, it’s sort of all of it, but it’s also the _—_ the _wedding_ of it all, I guess,” Blaine said, waving his arms around a bit. “He _—_ I know he proposed, but the more I plan, I _—_ fuck, I need another drink.”

Blaine knocked back the rest of his first drink and shot up towards the bar. Kurt observed as his friend flagged down the bartender, and then knocked back one, two, _three_ shots of… probably tequila, knowing Blaine. And then Kurt averted his gaze and made himself busy as Blaine sauntered back over to their table, carrying two drinks.

“Blaine, no _—_ I was going to say no judgement, but actually, it’s Monday,” Kurt exhaled. “Don’t you have school tomorrow?”

“Actually, this is the first week of my two week break before I have to get back in to prep for the new year, so _no_.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Just make sure I get home safe?”

So Blaine had been alone all day, no wonder his thoughts were so jumbled.

“I _—_ what was I saying?”

Kurt sighed. “Well, it was an _SOS_ , so I was just letting you go ahead.”

“Right, right, sorry,” Blaine laughed out. “No, wait, this is serious, why am I laughing?”

He reached across the table and grabbed the last of Kurt’s fried pickles, took a sip of his first drink, and then sighed. 

“I’m sorry,” he started, a little more solemn than before. “I just _—_ I know that dreaming up these crazy weddings was fun when we were kids, but there’s so much that we didn’t anticipate. I’ve reworked my seating chart like four times around, and Sue still finds something wrong with it. It’s _—_ I always thought it was going to be something we did together, and doing it by myself is really scary. And I… like, I _think_ that’s what’s with Jeremiah? Like he didn’t think it was this big to-do, and then when we started he still thought that because you were helping, but now it’s all me and he sees it all and… and, well, like, he proposed, so of course he wants to get married, but I just feel so alone planning this wedding.”

Blaine took a deep breath, like he was steeling himself. He downed the rest of the first drink, too.

“It’s like he’s coasting, he sees me struggling, he sees me up to my ears in things I have to get done, and he’s just there, but not really. I just _—_ it feels really lonely, planning this by myself, and I was just laying there today, avoiding calling my family to confirm if they were going to need a second table, and all I could think was, _What if I feel like this during my marriage?_ ”

Blaine slumped down against the table, hands on the back of his head. Kurt could feel the table shaking a bit with Blaine’s shuddered breathing, but he didn’t know how to even begin comforting his friend. 

“I _—_ I don’t want to get _divorced_ , Kurt…” It was muffled, but it was enough for him.

Kurt moved his chair over, scooting closer to Blaine. He laid a hand on his back, rubbing circles up and down. 

He really felt for Blaine, in a way he hadn’t before. Kurt had known years ago, when Blaine and Jeremiah started dating, that he’d been a bit insecure about Jeremiah’s investment in the relationship, but after so many years, Kurt couldn’t understand why he’d stay with someone who made him feel so alone. 

Worst of all, Kurt knew how exhausted Blaine was. The past few months, between work and planning and every problem in the way, he hadn’t had much time to really take care of himself or have any fun. Wedding planning was _fun_ for Kurt, but Blaine wasn’t really built that way _—_ his definition of summer fun was going to Coney Island, frequent Central Park picnics, brunches out, basking in the sunshine. And with all his free time tied up in planning the wedding, he knew Blaine hadn’t gotten to do _any_ of those things. He knew because most of the time, Kurt was the one to do them with Blaine _—_ Jeremiah was always too busy, or it was too hot, or he wasn’t hungry, or the game was on. 

Kurt didn’t know if Blaine’s outburst had to do with his exhaustion, his frustration with the entire shitstorm of a situation that had taken over his life in the past several months, or if it was just coming out because he was three drinks and three shots in, and he didn’t know _what_ he could say. He didn’t know _if_ he could even say anything, it didn’t feel fair to give any sort of advice, especially if Blaine didn’t feel the same way in the morning. 

As much as he loved his friend, as much as he wanted to tell Blaine to _stop, I’ll take care of it_ , or _leave him, you’ll be happier —_ he knew it wasn’t fair.

And for what seemed like hours, all he did was rub circles on Blaine’s back.


	6. Chapter Four (B) - Sa-Bo-Taaaaage

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, thanks to the amazing and wonderfully talented Aly & EJ for every single suggestion, comment, word of encouragement, and the ever-famous YEA BOIIIIII's
> 
> enjoy part b!

**Chapter Four (B)**

“Sa-Bo-Taaaaage”

September breezed by. Blaine’s school started classes back up, and his schedule was slightly less bizarre than before _—_ Kurt appreciated that they pulled him off running the debate team, even if he was still handling the majority of the music and theatre department’s overhead. And filling in for some of Coach Tenaka’s practices. With most of his wedding planning finished, Blaine had confided in Kurt that he felt like he could breathe again, even if it wasn’t super easy. 

Rachel, on the other hand, had excitedly announced during drinks that she’d been assigned a major case with one of the firm’s legacy clients, and though it was going to be a _ton_ of work, she was really excited the partners trusted her enough to give her the case in the first place. She’d have to work through the last few weeks of wedding details, and probably shorten her honeymoon by a day, but, “It’s so worth it, Kurt! If the clients trust me like the partners do, I’ll be set!”

Kurt was enjoying the bliss of not being involved in the in-fighting anymore, and the fact that both weddings were down to the wire and he didn’t have to stress about those details. Back in April, he had imagined what September would look like, and it… well, he hadn’t been looking forward to it. 

Of course, that bliss didn’t last _—_ because while both Rachel and Blaine were holding a seat for him at the ceremony and reception, they were getting impatient. 

They understood Kurt wouldn’t take sides, they understood it was a difficult position, and they said as much an almost annoying amount of times, but he just… he hadn’t reached a decision. 

* * *

Kurt met Santana for drinks in late September, in a seedy bar she frequented often, because he knew she was the only person who would actually be fair.

“You can’t go,” she said. She hadn’t even taken a sip of her drink. “If you go to one ceremony and the other reception, even if it doesn’t feel like picking a side, it’s picking a side. It’s _—_ it’s validating one relationship more than the other, picking one union and then one party.” 

“But that’s what everyone else is doing,” Kurt spluttered.

“Yeah, sure, Anderson’s wedding will probably be quicker, and then Berry’s reception will be a no-expense spared extravaganza, and _that’s okay_ ,” she supplied. She raised an eyebrow. “But the issue is, I’m a bitch, I don’t care what either one thinks. Tina’s better friends with Blaine, Kitty’s better friends with Rachel, and they’ll probably swap in and out of the receptions. But you can’t really do that, can you?”

Kurt shook his head. “But I can’t just _—_ I can’t _not_ be there.”

“But you can’t _pick_ ,” Santana said, her eyes uncharacteristically soft. 

Kurt had always known Santana to be very perceptive and unparalleled in picking up cues, but this was on another level.

“You can’t go to Blaine’s without breaking Rachel’s heart, and you can’t go to Rachel’s without breaking Blaine’s heart,” she said. “Not to mention going to Blaine’s would break _your_ heart, too.”

The silence was deafening.

“How long have you known?” Kurt asked, his voice small.

“It doesn’t matter, that’s not the point.” Santana waved the thought away, the string lights hung up in the bar playing with the glitter in her long nails. “The point is, you have to figure out something to do, but you can’t go.”

“I _—_ I’m family, I can’t just be _missing_ ,” he whispered.

“You’ll find a way. I know you will.”

* * *

And so commenced a week of Kurt just thinking through every single possibility, every way he could potentially work out a solution _—_ he consulted with Isabelle, with his dad, fuck, even with his therapist. And all that discussion for one thing to be true.

Santana was right. 

Regardless of his own heart breaking, if he attended Blaine’s ceremony, he’d be cementing in Rachel’s head that he preferred Blaine’s friendship, that Blaine mattered more, that their bond was stronger. That he wasn’t the family she thought he was. That he wouldn’t be there for her like he had promised. Like he didn’t love her for everything she was, and support her in everything she did. Their friendship was complicated, but Kurt wouldn’t give it up for the world, and he never wanted her to feel like she wasn’t his best friend.

But Blaine was, too. 

And if he attended Rachel’s ceremony, he’d essentially be telling Blaine he didn’t believe in his relationship. And that Rachel’s feelings mattered more than Blaine. And that the years of friendship and bonding didn’t mean as much as he’d said. That everything would change, and Blaine wouldn’t have the same support. That their friendship wasn’t as important to Kurt as it had been. 

There was no easy answer, and as much as other, wiser mentors helped him sort out his thoughts, they were adamant in not steering him one way or the other. Which Kurt found infuriating, of course. 

He just wished someone would tell him what to do. He’d accept any sign from the universe, at this point.

* * *

The autumn leaves were falling down like pieces into place, and suddenly the weddings were less than three weeks away. 

Kurt was not any closer to knowing what the hell he was going to do, but his tux was ready. For anything. 

He heard about Blaine and Jeremiah’s joint bachelor party from… someone, he couldn’t even remember who. A lowkey affair at some sports bar with Jeremiah’s fraternity brothers, Ken Tenaka and a few of Blaine’s friends from college. Sam had gone, and mentioned Blaine looked like he was trying a little too hard to enjoy himself. Kurt didn’t think about that one too long, lest his mind got away from him. 

Truth be told, he wasn’t offended at not being invited _—_ once Blaine had said it would be a joint party to cut costs, he knew his chances of going were pretty slim. 

What _was_ surprising though, was how un-Blaine the whole thing was. Blaine loved sports, but he wasn’t a fan of sports bars. Kurt knew he also wasn’t a fan of Jeremiah’s frat bros, no matter how much he denied it. The way Kurt saw it, the guys accepted Jeremiah because he flew under the radar, but Blaine was a little too much for them. They were happy to celebrate their bro, but had never tried to befriend Blaine. It was a pattern Kurt had noticed every time he was around the group, and had even mentioned it to Blaine, but he always brushed it off. Kurt suspected it had something to do with not wanting to upset the balance in the relationship, but it wasn’t his business at that point. It was just surprising that Blaine just went with that plan, but it was his relationship, and Kurt was not about to interfere. 

* * *

Though Kurt had expressly asked to be kept out of the wedding party, Rachel insisted he go to the bachelorette night of debauchery, as she called it. And Elliot was somehow able to get them a table at one of the most exclusive dance clubs in Manhattan, so who was he to say no?

His conscience said he shouldn’t, as he hadn’t attended Blaine’s _—_ but he hadn’t been _invited_ , and… and Rachel’s was paid for, okay?

The music was loud, the booth was plush and the drinks were sweet. Rachel’s makeup was heavy and twenty minutes in, her “Bride” tiara was lopsided. They were in a corner booth, secluded enough that it felt private, but not so much so that they felt disconnected from the rest of the club. The lights were dim, people were dancing and sloshing their drinks, and it was nothing like Kurt thought Rachel’s bachelorette would ever be. 

Not that they had ever talked about it. Bachelor and bachelorette parties were actually the only part of the weddings that Kurt, Blaine and Rachel had never talked about _—_ when they were younger, obviously they didn’t understand what those were, and then by the time they did, the very concept seemed so unimportant when put next to everything else, they never talked about it.

But Kurt had always thought Rachel would opt to do something like a spa day, or something really classy, like a cocktail party in a closed-off rooftop bar. 

Not wearing a dress too short for the autumn chill in the air, dancing on a table and spraying her bridesmaids with champagne so expensive, Marie Antoinette was rolling over in her grave. It was the kind of wild child behavior Rachel hadn’t even let out during her college years, which made Kurt wonder if it was a front. She’d been stressed out, and not having Kurt or Blaine at her side had clearly affected her, but this seemed a little… excessive.

There was a loud cheer from the other side of the room, as a few dancers came out. Oiled up, in tight shorts and with confetti all around them. 

“That’s your surprise!” Elliot yelled, pulling Rachel to him. 

“A dance?!” she squealed.

The DJ lowered the music and grabbed the mic, which didn’t endear him to the rest of the club. “I hear we have a bride in the house tonight!” 

Their table exploded in cheers, and Elliot pushed Rachel forward, erupting more cheers from other guests along the way. Rachel climbed onto the stage, adjusting her sash and tiara.

“Are you having fun tonight, babe?” She bobbed her head up and down. “Now, we have a few dancers here who want to give you a proper goodbye before you’re out of the single world for good _—_ take your pick!”

Four men lined up, all in varying degrees of generic attractiveness, winking at Rachel to win her attention _—_ and the audience’s tips, probably.

But someone off to the side caught Kurt’s attention. It was a split second, but he was almost _sure_ he saw Blaine. 

He shook his head. That wasn’t possible.

Rachel pointed at Hot Man #3 and giggled, jumping excitedly. “Alright, y’all heard the lady, let’s go!”

Someone provided a chair for Rachel, and the DJ turned the music back up, supplying a song with a heavy base that would probably be quite conducive to however much thrusting Hot Man #3 was going to be engaging in shortly. 

Said Hot Man #3 ripped off his shorts _—_ to much encouragement from the crowd _—_ and began hyping. 

Their table was filled with laughter, Santana was recording the whole thing on her phone, and Kurt was too embarrassed to look. 

Until Kitty scream-laughed and hit him in the arm. “That’s Blaine!”

_Huh_?

Kurt turned, and right she was _—_ Blaine was up on the stage, a little shaky but radiating confidence. A confidence Kurt hadn’t seen in a long time. 

He was also wearing a dancer’s “uniform” _—_ which was just shorts _—_ and Kurt was doing his best to be respectful in his gaze. 

But that _ass_.

“Hey, Mr. DJ, how’re you tonight?” Blaine slurred into the mic he had obviously taken from said DJ. “I _—_ I’m getting married too, and I don’t think this little lady should get all the attention.”

“Shut _up_ , Blaine, this is _my_ party!” Rachel yelled, loud enough for Kurt to hear her all the way in the back. 

“Yeah yeah, like everything and everyone’s yours,” he jeered, drunker than Kurt had ever seen him. “I challenge her to a dance off. Winner takes all!”

Kurt didn’t know exactly what that meant, but he could see this catastrophe unfolding before his very eyes. 

“You need to go up there,” Jessie’s sister shouted. “He’s going to embarrass her!”

“This is their fight,” Kurt said. “I’m not getting into it.”

What unfolded next was the severe de-throning of Rachel as the nuptial queen. She tried her best, she really did, but her dress wasn’t built to dance in, and her dance moves got sloppier when she drank. Blaine, on the other hand, got looser. He gyrated, rotated and spun his body around in ways that made the crowd go wild _—_ and made Kurt just a _bit_ hot under the collar. 

Kurt couldn’t watch.

The music pumped, the crowd cheered, Santana cackled, and Kurt just averted his eyes. He was alert _—_ he didn’t want to be in the bathroom if someone had an emergency _—_ but good God, he couldn’t watch his two best friends be this fucking _stupid_. 

Before the song was over, Elliot took off, apparently running after Rachel _—_ who, in true Rachel fashion, had stormed off. The girls decided to follow suit, picking up their things (and Rachel’s purse) and leaving a tip on the table. Kurt checked with the bartender that everything was taken care of, and set off to find Blaine.

Who was still oiled up, but had thankfully found his clothes backstage. He got a few high fives from the dancers on their way back out, which only deepened the pleased look on his face.

He looked a little too pleased with himself, in Kurt’s opinion. But he was also falling over himself trying to step into his jeans, so Kurt decided to help. 

* * *

Blaine babbled on and on the entire time Kurt helped to dress him, from pulling on his shorts to tying his shoes to fastening his scarf. It was a giddiness so bubbly it was almost contagious, he was so proud of himself for one-upping Rachel. And somehow even giddier that Kurt was there to see it. Not that he said as much, but the smile that split his face, the giggles that fell from his mouth _—_ they weren’t there until Kurt appeared.

But he was also so, so drunk. “I gotta _—_ I gotta get home, Kurt, right?” 

“Yeah, buddy, come on, we’ll get you home,” Kurt said, trying to make his voice as soothing as possible. “Tell me, did you get any drinks here?”

“No, no, I had it all at home before I came,” Blaine laughed. “It was fun, when I got here. Not at home.”

Kurt put an arm around Blaine’s waist, grateful he didn’t have to close out a tab for Blaine, and together they stumbled outside. They half-walked, half-tripped about half a block from the club, trying to get away from the crowd, and then leaned against the side of a building.

“I’ll call you an uber and get you home, yeah?” Kurt said, pulling out his phone. 

“Oh, will you come with me? I don’t _—_ it’s more fun when you’re with me,” Blaine said slowly, a small smile breaking out across his face.

“Yeah, okay,” Kurt exhaled, feeling the last of the alcohol leaving his body. The air was brisk, and the heat from inside the club was no longer surrounding him _—_ everything was just a teensy bit cooler now. “I’d rather make sure you got home safe, anyway.”

It was at that moment that Kurt realized his phone was dead. He groaned.

“Hey, you wanna do something we haven’t done since college?” Kurt asked.

“Play spin the bottle with the theatre kids?”

Kurt rolled his eyes. “Call a cab.”

Blaine nodded, hands clapping slowly and absently, like he didn’t even mean to. 

It was still early enough in the night that not too many people were getting rides, and within minutes, Kurt was helping Blaine climb into the cab. He gave the driver Blaine’s address, planning to drop him off and charge his phone for a bit before he called a car for himself, when Blaine interrupted him.

“No, Kurt, I don’t want to _—_ the apartment’s so _sad and empty_ , Kurt, I don’t wanna go back there,” Blaine whined. 

“What about Jeremiah?” His eyes flitted nervously between Blaine and the driver, who seemed to be losing his patience already. 

“I mean, yeah, he lives there, but it’s like we don’t even _talk_ anymore, it’s so _weird_.” Blaine slumped back in his seat, like that was all Kurt needed to know.

And it was. 

“Maybe you should stay with me for the night,” Kurt said. He turned back to the driver, and gave his address instead, patting Blaine on the back. 

If he could just keep it together for the drive, everything would be okay. 

Of course, Blaine didn’t really keep it together. At every red light, the driver gave Kurt a nasty look over his shoulder, begging him to make Blaine shut up.

And yet all Blaine could do was ramble on and on. About how proud of himself he was. About how happy he was Kurt came to his rescue. About how nice and good and amazing Kurt was. How lucky he was to have Kurt in his life.

“You’re just… Kurt, you have to know you’re everything, right?”

Kurt’s eyes watered just a little bit. The cab driver pulled to a stop in front of his building, and Kurt wiped his eyes, passed him a few bills and climbed out of the car, holding out his hand for Blaine. 

“Have a wonderful night, Mr. Cab Driver Sir,” Blaine said happily, stumbling out of the car. Kurt shut the door behind him, and the cab took off seconds after. “He wasn’t very nice, was he?”

“He was probably just tired, B,” Kurt reasoned, fishing for his keys in his jacket pocket. “Just like you are, right?”

“Kurt, you didn’t answer my question,” Blaine said, pulling on his hand.

Kurt ignored him, focused on getting them upstairs and getting Blaine some water. He hadn’t thrown up or even looked sick in the cab, but Kurt didn’t know how much he’d had, or how recent, and he was worried.

Once inside the apartment, Blaine slumped down on the couch and curled up around a throw pillow. “Everything’s so nice and cozy here,” he hummed, kicking off his shoes.

“I’m gonna grab you some water, okay?” Kurt called out from the kitchen. He didn’t hear anything from Blaine, but there wasn’t much else he could do about it. 

He handed the full cup to Blaine, who smiled softly at him. Kurt sat on the edge of the coffee table, wanting to maintain some distance. 

“You never answered my question, Kurt,” Blaine said a little sadly, taking a sip from the cup. 

It wasn’t really a question, but Kurt truly had no idea how to respond. Blaine’s words hadn’t seemed platonic at all. 

How do you platonically tell someone they’re _everything_?

Kurt sighed. “I’ll always be here for you, Blaine.” He smiled. Blaine smiled back, a little tentatively, and set the cup down on the table. “Of course I will, because you’re my best friend, because I love you, you know? Always have.”

Of course Kurt loved Blaine. That was his best friend in the entire world. 

But as he watched Blaine register his words, Blaine’s face fell. He looked crestfallen, defeated, and eventually… angry?

“Rachel put you up to this, didn’t she?” Blaine cried, straightening up. “I guess it’s _—_ it’s good to know what side you’re on after all these years, huh. I mean, you’ve always been so similar, it makes sense.”

Blaine took a steadying breath, but continued before Kurt could get a word in edgewise. And besides, Kurt was too stunned to even try. He couldn’t really believe what he was hearing.

“She’s always known I loved you, how I felt about you, after all, she’s just _—_ she’s still trying to screw me and Jeremiah up, and you just let yourself be a pawn like that, she’s just screwing us up by sending you like this, I can’t believe it, I just _—_ ” 

He hiccuped, and before Kurt could even process what had happened enough to offer him more water, Blaine had bolted towards the bathroom. The sound of vomit hitting the toilet was loud in the silent, dark apartment. 

Kurt decided to give Blaine a few minutes to finish and freshen up, maybe bring him a ginger ale and a mint, before they could continue their conversation, before Kurt could ask questions and answer Blaine’s. 

He was nervous, and giddy in a way he hadn’t found himself in a long time. Though it was late, he felt more awake than he had in weeks. He busied himself with fluffing pillows, folding the afghan over the couch and generally tidying a space he already kept meticulously tidy, just to have something to do. His hands were shaking just enough that he decided maybe he should take some deep breaths before anything else.

The things Blaine said, though, they bounced around in his head, like maybe if they went around enough times, they’d eventually make sense. 

Five minutes after the puking stopped, Kurt straightened his shirt and refilled the cup with some more water, then approached the bathroom, his nerves buzzing. He took a few calming breaths, telling himself to be calm. 

Faking it till he made it, so to speak.

Blaine had pushed open a door of possibilities for them, and Kurt was, for the first time in years, hopeful that something may come of it.

He turned the bathroom light on, letting his eyes adjust to the brightness for a moment. Then he saw Blaine, his shirt sticking to his chest in a few weird places, probably due to the sweat and baby oil, and his legs splayed out underneath him. 

His friend was passed out on the edge of Kurt’s tub, blissfully unaware of the fire he’d lit in Kurt’s mind. 


	7. Chapter Five - Two Weddings, A Fight And A Dance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOH boy this is a long one. but it's not one i really wanted to split up, so... sorry? 
> 
> big thanks (as always, but almost especially for this chapter) to Aly and EJ, for the amazing comments and the incredible help with that last third. really brought it home. 
> 
> god, just one more. enjoy!

**Chapter Five**

"Two Weddings, A Fight And A Dance"

Compared to some of their rowdier college days, it wasn’t _that_ late. The clock hadn’t even hit the AM. But with Blaine passed out in the bathroom, seemingly in for the night, Kurt decided to climb into bed and settle in as well.

Of course, this was after an uncomfortably prolonged period of time in which all Kurt could do was pace around his living room, hands clasped together to keep them from shaking. He reorganized his bookcase twice, polished his silverware and steamed every scarf hanging in his closet. His adrenaline passed eventually, and then all he was left with was the anxiety buzzing inside his head. He couldn’t take a shower to at least try to wash it out like he usually did, for obvious reasons. 

So he made a cup of sleepy-time tea and retreated to his bedroom. 

Then the flood in his mind _really_ started flowing, full of thoughts he really couldn’t avoid much longer. He tried to chase them down with his mug, but after what felt like an eternity, he gave up on any illusions of rest. 

He convinced himself he was only staying up in case Blaine woke up and needed help, staying alert in case he needed to call an ambulance, but after a few quiet hours, it was clear he wasn’t going to get _any_ sleep, regardless of the reason.

The reason, of course, being Blaine’s half-slurred words, living in Kurt’s head rent-free. Taunting him with their possibilities, with the anxieties they caused, but most of all, with everything Kurt had buried years ago that those words brought to the surface.

Memories from years ago played in Kurt’s mind like some cursed reel of his worst hits, moments he read too much into and fell down rabbit holes every single time, moments that truly haunted him, the source of so many sleepless nights. 

Their sophomore year, when Blaine complimented Kurt’s ass in his cheer uniform. Three weeks after that, when Blaine said Elijah Wood was a “less hot” version of Kurt. Every contented sigh when they ended up smushed together during movie nights after Rachel spread out on two full cushions on the couch. The bone-crushing hug that lasted for just a few seconds too long after they found out they would be attending the same university. Every dry laugh after a college friend asked if they were dating. 

God, the kicked puppy look on Blaine’s face when he found out Kurt had slept with Adam from the a capella group. 

Every single fucking moment of the past ten years had been a push and pull of overthinking small touches and quick glances, fantasizing and crashing down to reality.

Because the truth was, Kurt had been in love with Blaine for years. He knew that, and though he had tried to hide it from the moment he realized it, he knew that others knew as well. Obviously, Santana knew. He was _sure_ his dad knew, Finn had known, and for a good few years, it had seemed like an unspoken agreement with Rachel _—_ she knew as well as he did that if she said anything, it would ruin their dynamic. Kurt was sure that by the time they graduated college, Rachel thought he was over it _—_ that seeing Blaine fall head over heels so many times had been too much, and somehow Kurt’s heart had finally kicked Blaine out. 

It hadn’t.

All he’d really been able to do was push the feelings down, compartmentalize every single thing he felt about Blaine, and then brush to the side the parts that were decidedly not platonic. It had never been a perfect system, and it hadn’t worked all the time, but it had helped to transform a bleeding, pounding gash into the dull ache of a phantom limb. 

Kurt had spent years learning how to live with the yearning in his heart, with seeing Blaine at his most vulnerable, at his lowest, but also at his happiest, at his most endearing, at his most loving. And he knew what Blaine had always needed most was his friendship _—_ that was the one thing that had kept him so sure of his decision for so long. Blaine fell so hard, so fast, and he needed someone to support him unconditionally, without the insecurity Blaine so often associated with romantic partners. And most of all, Blaine had needed someone solid, something he had thanked Kurt for too many times to count.

And as much as Kurt disliked Jeremiah, as much as he questioned Blaine’s relationship _—_ Kurt would never.

Had he dreamed about sweeping Blaine off his feet? Had he thought about how beautiful and fun and colorful their life would be together? Had he, in shameful moments he later regretted, compared himself to Jeremiah and every other man Blaine had ever dated, questioning what he saw in them?

Blaine had continuously made his decision, and every single time, his boyfriends had been not-Kurts. Sebastians, Hunters, Connors, Elis, _Jeremiah_. Never Kurt.

But… but if what he said was true, and Blaine _felt_ something else…

He’d said Kurt was everything. He’d said Rachel knew.

_What_ did Rachel know?

The possibilities that answered that question taunted Kurt until the wee hours of the morning, and as much as he tried to ignore them, as much as he tried to push away the slivers of hope, he just… couldn’t.

Kurt imagined walking hand in hand with Blaine, a picnic in Central Park. Picking flowers just for the hell of it. Dinner dates and movie nights. Sitting on the couch, writing while Blaine pored over his lesson plans. Smiles from his family when he finally told them. Most of all, Blaine’s radiant smile, happy as can be. 

When everything you’ve ever wanted presents itself on a silver platter, how can you say no?

* * *

The golden light of the sunrise peeked through his window, and Kurt rolled over. He pulled the dark blue blanket over his head, hoping to stave off the morning for a few more moments _—_ he didn’t know if he was quite ready for it.

Through his musings, Kurt had studiously avoided imagining the morning, he purposefully didn’t want to have a conversation planned.

But the smell of bacon wafting in through his door was enough for him to know at least Blaine was awake. And hungry. Like Kurt.

He pulled on a sweatshirt and padded into his kitchen, yawning.

“Hey, good morning,” Blaine waved from behind the stove. “Pancakes and bacon, as a thank you for taking care of me last night. I’m _—_ I must have been such a bother, so.”

Kurt smiled. “I’ll take it, but there’s no need. I’m always here for you.”

Blaine beamed, flipping the last pancake off the pan and turning the eye off. He leaned up to grab the regular assortment of toppings, and shifted just a bit uncomfortably. 

“Is it the baby oil?” Kurt asked, grabbing the silverware. “I can grab you a sweatshirt or something, if you want.”

Blaine laughed, bringing the plates over to the table. “You know what’s funny? I barely remember the baby oil. Or, honestly _—_ even getting to the club.” He giggled, taking a bite. “I kept drinking at home to psych myself up, I don’t even know how many shots I had _—_ it’s a miracle I didn’t puke.”

Kurt felt his heart constrict. _He didn’t remember._ “You did, though.”

“I _—_ yeah, fine, I meant before I left!” Blaine shook his head. “But if I ended up here, I must not have been in too much trouble.”

“Right.” Kurt’s mind was reeling. He could barely process Blaine’s words.

“I mean, with you I’m always safe, so…” Blaine trailed off, digging more fully into his plate.

The _implications_ of what Blaine was saying were not at odds with Kurt’s wild imaginings from the night before, but _god,_ he didn’t mean it like that. Kurt _knew_ that! He’d known it yesterday, he’d known it last night and he let himself run wild anyway. 

The ache in his heart made sure he wouldn’t again. 

“Everything okay?” Blaine asked after a few too many moments of silence. “I know I’m not the best cook, but you’ve barely touched your pancakes.”

Kurt’s mind raced. What could he even say?

He shrugged, picked up his fork and hoped Blaine wouldn’t press on.

He was saved by a phone going off.

Blaine jumped, unlocked his phone, blinked, and then his eyes went wider than Kurt had ever seen them. His smile followed shortly after.

“What is it?” Kurt asked, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Uhh… so Santana put videos of last night on her Instagram,” Blaine started, a little too giddy. “And, Kurt, I look good?” He let out an incredulous laugh, showing Kurt the screen. “I _—_ I drank so much at home because I really thought I was just going to make an ass of myself to embarrass Rachel, but this is _—_ this is beyond what I could have imagined! She _—_ she looks so dumb, all bug-eyed and running away like a scared little girl!”

The glee in Blaine’s voice was a little hard to take, considering it was at the expense of someone who, less than six months ago, was his very best friend.

“Blaine,” Kurt said hesitantly. “This isn’t very _—_ ”

“Santana’s video already has over a hundred views! I _—_ I gotta call Cooper, he thought it was so stupid, I gotta go!” Blaine shoveled the last of the food on his plate into his mouth and had gathered his shoes and coat before Kurt had so much as blinked. “Thanks for everything, Kurt! You’re the best! I’ll see you later!”

Kurt was sitting, still dumbfounded, his bacon and pancakes cold and uneaten, when his phone went off ten minutes later.

Maybe Blaine had suddenly remembered his words from the night before? Maybe he was running back, eager to pull Kurt into his arms? Maybe it had all just been one big, elaborate nightmare?

It was Rachel.

“I’m sure Santana’s video isn’t that bad,” Kurt started, knowing how worked up she probably already was. 

“No, I _—_ what are you talking about?” she said, her voice a little hysterical. “Never mind, I honestly don’t care. It’s just _—_ can I ask you something?”

Kurt sat up. Rachel never sounded this insecure. “Of course, anything. You know I’m here for you, Rach.”

“Am I a bad person?”

This was _not_ the direction Kurt thought the conversation would go in.

“I _—_ okay, blanket _no_ , why would you ask that?” 

Kurt heard her take a deep, shuddering breath, and then silence. And then Rachel was sobbing.

“Bec—because what kind of person is so horrible their _mom_ won’t even _meet_ with _—_ with them t—to _talk_ about _—_ about…”

Of _course_ this had to do with Shelby. Rachel couldn’t even get through her sentence without breaking down again. Kurt’s heart broke. 

“Hey, Rach?” Kurt said slowly. “You with me here?” Even though he couldn’t see her, he knew she was nodding. “Take a few deep breaths for me. In, and out. Just like that, yeah. One more time. In. Out. Okay. So, start from the beginning?”

He heard a sigh from the other end. 

“Shelby’s still on the fence about going to the wedding, because she has to be on call for a standby rehearsal or something, you know I don’t know how all that works,” she started. “Bottom line, it’s not a rehearsal she needs to be at, but she wants to be available on the off chance they call her. The rehearsal is an hour after the ceremony. She agreed to meet me for coffee today so we could talk it over, and I _—_ last night was so crazy, I overslept. I _—_ last night, I got home and I was so drunk and so upset, I was crying and Elliot didn’t know what to do and Jessie tried to help but I just _—_ I…” She took a deep breath. “I think eventually I tired myself out and fell asleep, but I forgot to set my alarm and I woke up and _—_ I tried calling her, but it just keeps going to voicemail, and she _—_ Kurt, she’s not gonna call me back!”

Rachel descended into sobs again.

“This _—_ this was my one shot, and I blew it! She gave me one chance, that was all I had, and I _—_ I just…”

Kurt didn’t think. “I _—_ I can come over, we’ll eat food and watch some movies and figure it out, how about that?”

Rachel sniffed on the other end, and Kurt could imagine the tears streaming silently down her face. He heard a soft murmuring, and then another sigh. “Um, Jessie’s here, I need to go. Thanks, Kurt.”

The line went dead, and Kurt shuddered out a breath. 

Truth be told, he had initially hoped he could badger Rachel with questions about what Blaine said, and maybe break their unspoken agreement and actually talk about his feelings for Blaine for once, dissect every single thing that had happened.

But there was no way, not now.

* * *

_A Moment of Sue_

As a wedding planner, I meet a lot of couples, and I see them at their most excited, and their most frustrated. Throughout my years, I’ve seen a lot of moments that spell out very clearly if a couple is actually going to stay together. I know that sounds silly, but the months leading up to a wedding are actually incredibly indicative of the couple’s eventual longevity. The amount of make or break moments I’ve witnessed is frankly embarrassing. 

Though I didn’t _witness_ these, I have two such moments here, just for you.

* * *

Rachel hung up the phone as Jessie walked into the bedroom, beckoning a glass of water towards her.

“Thanks,” she said quietly, setting her phone facedown on her bedside table. She burrowed into the sheets, pulling the blanket up to her chin. 

Jessie approached her slowly, set the glass on the table and sat down on the edge of the bed. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rachel groaned. Jessie chuckled, brushed her hair out of her face and climbed into bed beside her. 

“I know you’re stressed,” he started, grabbing her hand. She closed her eyes. “You’re not in this alone. I know you always thought you’d have Kurt and Blaine along with you for this, and that’s not worked out as expected, but… Rachel, you’ve got me.”

She sighed. “I… I know that. I just always wanted all of this to be so perfect, and this thing with Shelby is just like the cherry on top of a crap sundae.”

Jessie pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead. “Rachel, you know I love how driven you are, your perfectionism is one of your most attractive qualities _—_ which is not common for a lot of people. You’re a high-achieving, hard working force of nature. I’d say the same about me. But what I’ve come to learn is, well, perfection is unattainable.” Jessie paused for a moment. “You could spend your entire life looking for it, and all you’d end up with is just… exhausted. So, how about this? We try to just be people from now on.”

Rachel peered up at him, tears pooling in her eyes. “I was going to try to be the perfect wife for you.”

Jessie laughed lightly. “I’ll settle on having the _—_ the hottest, cutest, most driven most perfect-for-me wife.”

Rachel laughed. “Yeah?” 

“If that makes you happy. That’s all I want.”

* * *

Blaine practically skipped home, on cloud nine after seeing Santana’s post, reading comment after comment after comment. He was still elated by the time he shut the door behind him, putting his keys down and toeing off his shoes.

It came crashing down the minute he met Jeremiah’s gaze.

“Uh, hi honey, good morning,” Blaine tried, peeling his jacket off. He examined the sleeves _—_ he’d definitely need to give it a wash. 

“You look homeless,” Jeremiah started. “Like _—_ like you spent the night passed out in an alley.”

Blaine rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m about to take a shower, so that won’t be a problem soon.”

He walked off, lifting his shirt over his arms on the way. He heard Jeremiah follow him, but didn’t glance back.

“You _know_ that’s not the real problem.”

“I’m _—_ sorry, I got really drunk and just forgot to text you, and you were closing last night, so I figured I would be back by the time you got home,” Blaine reasoned, leaning down to pull off his socks. “I _—_ then I just passed out, I’m sorry.”

Jeremiah sighed. “Thanks for your apology, but that’s not _—_ we have mutual friends, Blaine.”

Blaine frowned, confused as to where his fiancé was going with this. “I’m aware.”

“They could have _seen_.”

“Seen what?”

“The way you conducted yourself last night was… I don’t even know what to say, honestly. But some of my friends follow Santana on Instagram, they could _see_ that stupid video, and then what are they gonna think? That I’m marrying some wild child party animal?”

“I _—_ she didn’t even add tags to the _—_ okay, Jeremiah, that’s enough,” Blaine finished, lifting up his hands in defeat.

“No, you’ve been acting like a wild overgrown child and I’m tired of it, so knock it off.” Jeremiah crossed his arms. He let that hang in the air for a few moments. “Lately, you’ve had these weird mood swings, you’ve been so mad and intense and then excited and almost like, manic, and I don’t know how to deal with this and… frankly you have me questioning if this just all has to do with the wedding, or if it’s permanent.”

Blaine let out a disbelieving laugh, squaring his shoulders. “Me having emotions and expressing them might be permanent, yeah.”

“God, you’re doing it right _now_ ,” Jeremiah whined, motioning to Blaine’s stance. “You’re not like… bitchy, but you’re in the neighborhood of bitchy. Should have the cab drop you back off at the corner of pleasant and polite, where we met.”

Blaine’s eyes widened. How could he even respond to that? “Okay, um, Jeremiah? I’m _allowed_ to have feelings.”

Jeremiah rolled his eyes. “Right, yeah, yeah, _that’s_ it! You cracked the fucking case, _babe_!” The sarcasm was dripping from his voice, and Blaine was tired of it. 

“ _Right_ , okay, so it’s just don’t have _so many_ feelings _—_ or, or if I do, don’t show them. Got it, cool, cool.”

Jeremiah sighed loudly. “God, I can’t even _talk_ to you right now!”

Blaine let out another laugh. “You haven’t even _tried_! You haven’t bothered to ask how hard this is, or how I’m feeling, or _anything_!”

Jeremiah shook his head. “Look, I… Whatever, it’s a tense time, I gotta get to work.”

Blaine just stared at him as he left the room, the silence hanging over them.

Once the front door shut behind him, Blaine slumped down on the bed, the anger and indignation seeping out of him.

All he was left with was an overwhelming sense of dread.

* * *

Kurt had circled the day of the weddings on his calendar months ago, in giddy anticipation of what was to come. That had turned into anticipation of a decision, which eventually became dread.

When the day finally dawned, he _still_ hadn’t made a decision regarding which of his friend’s hearts he was going to be breaking.

So he pulled on his freshly pressed tux and hauled ass to the Plaza, the satin blue ribbon heavy in his pocket.

* * *

Sue Sylvester was a force to be reckoned with. Kurt had known that, she was legendary. But seeing her in action was… illuminating. She was a beast, in the best way. With a clipboard and headset, commanding staffers this way and that, she looked like she could take on the world and then eat it for lunch.

Both ceremonies were still a few hours away, but Kurt knew she had already been at this for far too long. He stood a few feet away for a moment, just watching her in her element.

Yeah, despite everything, he still wished he had been a part of this.

“Porcelain,” he heard Sue call out. “What are you doing way over there?”

Kurt waved, crossing the hall until he was right next to Sue, who towered over him _—_ not necessarily in stature, but definitely in confidence.

“I take it you still don’t know which ceremony you’re attending?” she asked, a knowing twinkle in her eye.

Kurt didn’t even stop to question how she knew. “I _—_ I’ve been over it a hundred times, and I can’t fathom what would be fair, or even remotely okay for me to do,” he rushed out.

“Stop thinking about everyone else. What do _you_ want?” she asked.

One of the decorating staff approached her, but before he was even within a foot of her, she held up her hand and he backed away. Kurt felt strangely important in a way he never had, he was Sue Sylvester’s sole focus. At least for the moment.

“I _—_ I just want them to be happy,” Kurt started. “And quite frankly, there’s nothing in my power to make it happen. How _—_ how can I go to both weddings? Alternatively, how could I go to neither?”

“Well, that suit is too good to go to waste.” Sue brushed some imaginary lint off his shoulder. “My advice? Go talk to them. Have a heart to heart, you all seem like the type to love those. See who needs you more.”

Kurt nodded. How was this woman so good at everything? He turned, looking to the direction of Rachel’s suite first. 

“And Hummel?” He turned back. Sue’s voice was softer than he’d ever heard it. “I’m sorry about the way things turned out. It would have been an absolute pleasure to work alongside you.”

Kurt blushed and muttered out a heartfelt, _Thank you_. The compliment meant more than he could articulate, and he was already too emotional to try.

He forged on, following the hallway down to Rachel’s suite.

* * *

Kurt knocked lightly on the ivory double doors, careful to not startle anyone _—_ one false move during eyeliner application could ruin someone’s day, he’d seen it, and he did _not_ want to be responsible. A short pre-teen girl opened the door, light brown hair pulled back in a tight bow. 

“It’s a _boy_ ,” she called out. 

“Is it a pretty boy?” Kitty’s voice asked from inside the room. Right, she was a bridesmaid. Apparently, Rachel had appreciated her bluntness at the engagement party, or so she said. 

Kurt raised an eyebrow, and the little girl giggled and opened the door wider for him to enter.

“Oh, it’s just Kurt,” Kitty sighed out, lounging on a sofa. She had a champagne flute in her hand, though it was obviously not her first. Her hair was in a complicated-looking updo, same as the other two bridesmaids _—_ Rachel’s distant cousin Samantha, and Jessie’s sister Audrey. Not her first choices, but none of the girls in their friend group would pick sides. 

Elliot stood off to the side, in a tux the same color as the girls’ dresses, scrolling mindlessly on his phone. He looked bored out of his mind.

Rachel, however, ran into Kurt’s arms the moment she saw him. “Kurt! I’m so glad you’re here!”

She truly looked beautiful. The dress fit her like a dream, a perfect blend of modern and delicate, sleek and undeniably mature, but with a hint of playfulness with the bow. Her skin glowed, her hair cascaded down her shoulders beautifully, the front held back with a delicate arrangement of ornate pins, matching the color of the bridesmaids’ dresses. 

But something was missing. Her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes, and Kurt noticed they were bloodshot, as if she had been crying recently. 

“How are you?” he asked, giving her a small smile.

Elliot let out a loud groan, and Rachel shot him a look. “Ignore him. He’s just grumpy his date blew him off.” Kurt blinked, not entirely sure how else he could react. He didn’t know Elliot, not really, but his dismissive attitude seemed like more than that. “I’m fine.”

“Fine?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” Rachel waved off Kurt’s frown, and he could see how badly she wanted him to let it go.

But he couldn’t.

“Rachel, _fine_ is not a feeling,” Kurt started, putting his hands on her bare shoulders and looking her squarely in the face. He didn’t want to take it too far, lest her mascara run and ruin her day, but there were some things he couldn’t keep in. “And it _definitely_ is not how you should feel on your wedding day.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt saw Kitty, Samantha and Audrey avert their eyes, and he appreciated the thin semblance of privacy they were being granted. None of them knew Rachel like he did, and none of them could tell just how close she was to breaking. 

“It’s okay to not be okay, Rach,” he continued softly. “I’m here for you, your friends are here for you, your _family_ is here for you. We all love you, so much, and all everyone wants is for you to be happy.”

She sniffled a bit, her eyes downcast.

“Not everyone.”

“He wants you to be happy.”

“No, I _—_ not everyone in my family is here. Not really.” She turned away. “I _—_ I miss how we were.”

Kurt’s heart broke for her _—_ he and Blaine had always been the family she missed out on, being an only child, having two dads and an absent mother figure. He could see how unsteady she was, how unsteady she had _been_ for the past few months, without them beside her. 

And, well… Shelby very _obviously_ was absent. There was a robe haphazardly thrown over a loveseat, with a bedazzled “Mother of” slightly visible. 

Kurt didn’t know what to say _—_ were there any words that would comfort her at all? 

He pulled her in, careful to not pull at her hair or dress, and hoping against hope that his hug would help at all. 

There was another knock on the door, followed by the tell-tale lighthearted scatting of the Berry men when they entered a room. It was something they’d started to embarrass Rachel whenever she had playdates as a child, and just sort of stuck when Kurt and Blaine enjoyed it so much. It was a piece of her childhood that would almost always be intact.

“Where’s our baby girl?” LeRoy called out, entering the room with his arms extended. 

“Wait, w—wait, wait, everyone’s decent, right?” Hiram called out, walking in slowly with a hand over his eyes.

“Dads!” Rachel squealed, jumping out of Kurt’s arms and swiftly into theirs. 

It was a beautiful sight to see, the joy in her eyes. No one could cheer Rachel up quite like Hiram and LeRoy Berry, and it seemed to be quite exactly what she needed. 

“Goodness, you look so beautiful,” LeRoy sighed. 

“Absolutely radiant! We are, gosh, we’re so proud of you.” A few moments passed, the small family just holding each other in a way they hadn’t been able to for a long time. It was heartwarming, to say the least. “And of course, our surrogate son, come in here, Kurt Hummel,” Hiram called, gesturing over to him. 

The room wasn’t small by any means, but Kurt felt claustrophobic in their embrace. The implication was there, Blaine was missing. The friends the Berry’s had gotten to know over the years were missing. The room felt a little too small, a little lacking in air, a little too tight. 

And the silence was deafening. Samantha looked on, not even bothered that her uncle called Kurt family and didn’t even acknowledge her, and Kitty and Audrey studied their nails, searching for imperfections to fix at the last minute. Elliot still leaned on the wall, scrolling on his phone. The silence as the men hugged their daughter while she held them like a lifeline, clinging to Kurt like an anchor… it was too much for him.

Kurt stepped back, hands shaking. He needed to calm down, he needed to get a grip and take some deep breaths. He needed to remind himself he was not responsible for what happened, and as much as he loved his friend, he was not there to put pieces together _—_ just soften whatever blows he could. And see how much he was needed, after all. 

“Darling, we _—_ well, we have something for you,” Hiram started. Kurt averted his eyes and took a few steps away, not quite out of earshot but, like the others, still giving them the semblance of privacy. 

“Shelby said she really wanted to be here for your special day, but she couldn’t make it,” LeRoy started, very quietly. “She sent this for you, instead.”

Kurt could almost _hear_ Hiram rolling his eyes. “Sent it to the old house, I’m just glad the Roses kept in touch _—_ did you know Marley just graduated?” He cleared his throat. “They brought it over. We didn’t open it, we thought you should get that chance.”

Rachel was hyperventilating. “She’s _—_ she’s not coming?”

The room was so silent, Kurt could swear he _actually_ heard a pin drop. 

The silence was quickly replaced by the ripping of wrapping paper, and then Rachel gasped. “Kurt?”

He was at her side in a flash, staring down at the small silver box she held in her hands. A studded rose gold bangle sat in the center, surrounded by green tissue paper. No note. 

Before Kurt could really process anything else, Rachel had dropped the box. She ran over to the vanity in the corner, a flurry of white satin and brown hair. She grabbed at tissues, very visibly trying to not let the tears flow. 

“They worked _so hard_ on this makeup, Shelby is not ruining this for me, too,” she muttered, voice thick. 

Her dads scuttled over to her, patting her bare shoulders and caressing her hair in a futile attempt to comfort their daughter. In the one area they really never could. 

“Do you want some water, honey? We can get _—_ you there, get her some water, please, thanks,” Hiram prattled on, waving Elliot over. 

“No, no, it’s _—_ it’s fine,” Rachel gasped out. It sounded like something between a cry and a yell, but the only thing her words really pointed to was how _not_ fine it all was. “Elliot _—_ um, I… give me a second, okay? Everybody shush, just give me a minute.”

The room was deathly silent. So much so, when Kitty leaned down to adjust her dress and her bracelets clanged together, Hiram shot her a dirty look. 

Rachel was muttering under her breath, wringing her hands together and pacing in a three-foot circle in front of the vanity. Kurt heard a few distinct words, “family, flowers, yummy, shoe” but couldn’t make enough sense of them to even try to follow along. 

Finally, she stopped dead in her tracks and pointed at Elliot. “Get rid of that CD.”

She swiftly turned back to her dads, silently asking for their advice, and ignoring the rest of the room, like nothing had happened and no one else mattered.

And in reality, in this moment, did anyone else outside of Rachel’s nuclear family really matter? 

The air in the room felt super charged, and though the bridesmaids were too zoned out to care, Kurt took it as his cue to exit. 

It seemed Elliot had the same idea, following him out the door. That man did _not_ like being bossed around, the way he was muttering under his breath as he stomped past Kurt. “…some day she’ll thank me for this.”

Kurt shook his head, not even stopping to wonder what the hell he meant before turning on his heel and wandering towards Blaine’s suite on the other wing of the floor. Bless Sue Sylvester for attempting to keep them apart, even if the only thing that separated their weddings was a hallway. 

He stopped right in front of the double doors and squared his shoulders. He took a deep breath and hoped against hope that Blaine was okay, and didn’t look half as good in his tuxedo as Kurt imagined he would when designing the goddamn thing. He knocked, three quick raps on the door, and then waited.

And waited. 

And waited some more.

He opened the door slowly, poking his head in first. 

And what a sight he saw. 

First of all, Blaine was a _vision_ in the tux, perfectly tailored and fitted. Not to mention he had finally dyed his hair back to its natural shade, and the stylist had worked wonders to transform the sometimes-unruly curls into a coif rivaling that of a Disney prince. 

Outside of him, everything else was chaos. 

Ken Tenaka was sporting a simple, standard tux that, from what Kurt could see, was about a size too small, and the man was sitting back on an ornate sofa, face red and lips pursed, as Blaine railed on.

Because unlike Rachel, Blaine didn’t have any calming music playing in the room. Or a small gathering of groomsmen to melt any tension. He did have an identical bucket with chilled champagne and a few flutes sitting out, but it all remained untouched.

So even though Blaine wasn’t yelling, his words cut through the tension in the room like a knife.

“—and I _really_ don’t need you telling me how I just need to bang it out and it’ll all be fine,” Blaine was saying, words rushing out of his mouth. “I don’t need your goddamn advice, and I never wanted it in the first place. I’m _sick_ and _tired_ of you belittling me and using me to cover your laziness and your incompetence. Those kids deserve better, and _I_ deserve better.”

Kurt stepped into the room and shut the door behind him. 

“Hey, uh, Ken, is it?” he said quietly, waving. “I can take it from here, why don’t you try to find Cooper? And Mr. and Mrs. Anderson? I think I heard someone say they arrived a few minutes ago.”

The man shrugged his shoulders, hoisted himself up and walked past Kurt and out the door unceremoniously, like he really didn’t care about it either way. Which he probably didn’t, Kurt reasoned.

Once the door clicked shut behind Tenaka, Kurt took a few cautious steps forward and glanced at Blaine. 

And Blaine’s eyes just screamed desperation. Though his entire body had been tense with Tenaka in the room, it was like he went slack when he met Kurt’s eyes. He slumped backwards onto the sofa and put his head in his hands. 

Kurt gingerly approached him, sitting on the coffee table in front of Blaine _—_ if he leaned forward, there would only be inches between them. 

A few moments passed by, and Kurt could tell Blaine was gathering his thoughts. If the frantic bouncing of his leg was any indication, there were… many. Kurt leaned forward just a bit and pressed his hand onto Blaine’s bouncing knee _—_ it was something he used to do in college, when Blaine was so frantic and overwhelmed by his workload that he couldn’t move, Kurt would gently press a hand to his arm or his knee and bring him back, coaxing him to a calmer state of mind with some tea, or a blanket, or some music.

He didn’t think he’d be doing it on Blaine’s wedding day.

But it did the trick. It was like a dam broke, and Blaine lifted his head, tears streaming down his face.

“I _—_ why did I do that?” he whispered.

“Blaine, you stood up for yourself,” Kurt said softly, squeezing his friend’s knee. “And for your kids. There’s absolutely nothing bad about that.”

“But I just _—_ I feel so alone,” Blaine started, and it was like the words were flooding out of his mouth before he could stop them _—_ like he’d had it all bottled up inside him, with no one to confide in. “Since all this sort of started, I’ve just been _—_ more, I guess, maybe sort of confident? Not that I didn’t believe in myself before, but I know I didn’t really fight for things. And I didn’t used to care, I liked who I was. But… fighting for all this stuff made me wonder why I hadn’t gone after what I deserved before, I used to just take what I was given, take scraps from people, and _thank_ them for sharing. And I guess I _—_ I like this? This new guy who someone could maybe think is assertive? I mean, I’m no _you_ but _—_ but anyway, I thought it would be a good thing. But it’s just… it’s isolated me, in a weird way.”

“Blaine, this…” Kurt sighed. “I’m not gonna say it will blow over, but it’s not the end of the world, and it’s not the end of your friendship with Rachel. It will take time to mend, yes, but it _will_ mend.”

Blaine scoffed. “Not that, _that_ I know.” He shook his head and took a long breath. 

“And for what it’s worth _—_ I’m proud of you. In the most unpatronizing way possible, I am so _proud_ of how much you’ve grown in these past few months,” Kurt offered. “It’s no secret I admire you, for loads of reasons, because you’re amazing, but _—_ seeing you grow into the confident guy you were always meant to be, even if the circumstances just suck? Blaine, I don’t have _words_ , I’m just really proud.”

There was a long silence, and the tears in Blaine’s eyes began flowing again.

“Kurt, I feel isolated in my _relationship_. I’ve been doing all the wedding stuff by myself, all the appointments and calls and meetings, all the planning, _all of it_. I thought Jeremiah just wasn’t into wedding stuff. But lately it just feels like the closer we got to the wedding, the further apart we got. And it feels like… like he doesn’t _like_ the confident me, at all.”

Kurt didn’t want to overstep, but _—_

“Did _—_ did something happen?”

Blaine sat up, Kurt’s hand slipping from his knee, and took a long breath.

“He _—_ we had this fight,” Blaine started. “I feel like it started out really dumb, but… I _—_ I don’t know how to make it better. After we had this fight he just left, and then everything’s just been really… cold, I guess? He _—_ he just said stuff about how I have been like, intense and weird, and how it had him worried about if this is what I was really like? And it just felt like _—_ so invalidating, in a way? Like, my entire support system was turned upside down, my game plan for how all this was supposed to go was thrown out the window, and then I had Rachel actively working to sabotage me _—_ and he made it sound like it was nothing, like I was _—_ ”

Blaine let that hang in the air, and put his head back in his hands. His body was shaking, racking with barely-controlled sobs. 

And Kurt just didn’t understand. He didn’t understand how Jeremiah could say those things. Moreover, he could not even begin to understand how Jeremiah could ever think _this_ Blaine wasn’t his Blaine. Sure, a different side of him had been more active for the past few months, but… this had _always_ been Blaine. He was never quiet or complacent, not really _—_ he felt things just as deeply as Kurt and Rachel did, he had always been just as intense, just as dramatic, just as eager, and silly and fun. He just… didn’t show it as much. 

Cooper had taken all the dramatics, and by the time Blaine was the only kid in the house, his parents were exhausted. Tired of the drama, tired of the tantrums and the excessiveness that defined Cooper’s teen years _—_ and beyond, if Kurt was being honest. And Blaine saw that, of course he did. He was young, not blind. So he had decided it would just be easier to be small and quiet, a pleasant child for tired parents. 

And a pleasant adult for everyone else, no matter the cost to him.

But how could Jeremiah be marrying Blaine and not know that?

Kurt leaned forward, placing his hands on Blaine’s shoulders and pulling him in, until he was almost holding him to his chest. Kurt smoothed circles onto his back, whispering comforting _shh_ ’s in his ear. Once Blaine’s breathing was a bit more settled, Kurt pulled him back and, holding him by the shoulders, looked him in the eye.

“Blaine Devon Anderson, I am only going to say this once, so listen carefully,” Kurt started, his voice wavering just a bit. “You are not _—_ how he made you feel has nothing to do with who you are. Who you have always been. And this strong, confident, emotional, charismatic and intensely amazing man is who you’ve always been. I don’t know how Jeremiah can’t see that.”

Blaine blinked, a shuddering breath escaping his lips and hitting Kurt squarely in the face. It was then that he noticed just how close they actually were, their faces only inches apart. He could feel Blaine’s heart thumping in his chest, feel his shoulders shaking with every breath he took.

But most importantly, he could see Blaine’s big, beautiful, expressive eyes, so full of so many emotions, so open to Kurt, so careful and trusting and loving.

_Loving?_

Kurt’s cheeks flushed, and his heart thumped against his ribcage. He felt like he couldn’t breathe.

And then Blaine closed his eyes, and slowly lifted his head forward, just ever so slightly, just a bit, until his forehead was resting on Kurt’s.

Kurt closed his eyes. 

He felt the agonizing pressure of Blaine’s face shifting against his, so slowly it was almost like he wasn’t moving at all. He could swear he felt lips brush at his jaw, a nose at his cheek, and for a moment, he imagined what could be.

He imagined Blaine finally made his way over and they kissed, and it was like a million stars exploding all at once, but also like coming home at the end of a long day. He imagined Blaine leaving the room, leaving the Plaza, leaving Jeremiah, and taking Kurt with him. He imagined their cozy apartment, their movie nights, their laughter. He imagined years down the road, with gray in his hair and a ring on his finger, kids with Blaine’s curly hair calling Kurt _Dad_ , because obviously Blaine would insist on being _Pop_ or _Daddy._

The double doors burst open, and Kurt jumped back in surprise, pulling his hands back to steel himself back on the coffee table. 

“HEY, KIDDOS!” Cooper’s voice boomed.

Kurt blinked himself back to reality, to a wedding day, to the Anderson clan filing into the room. “Hi!” 

He chanced a look at Blaine, who hadn’t moved _—_ still shellshocked, the only indication he realized what had happened were his wide eyes. 

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see you here, buddy,” Cooper called out, waving Kurt over.

And Kurt followed, because on one hand he really did love the Andersons, and on the other, if they cooed over him, it would give Blaine some time to compose himself from whatever that was. Or _wasn’t_ , Kurt corrected himself.

And so he hugged Cooper for all he was worth, exchanging niceties and hugs with this family he’d known all his life. 

“Did you somehow get taller since last I saw you, Kurt?” Pam asked, looking up at him the same way she had since his junior year growth spurt. He giggled. 

There was always something about her that was so sunny and warm, that made Kurt wistful. Maybe it was because she was really the only mom they all still had, maybe it was her special paciencia cookies, the way the sweet merengue tasted just out of the oven, or maybe it was just the way she was just like Blaine. 

Ronald Anderson pulled him into a hug as well, patting him on the back and congratulating him on his latest published story. “Burt hasn’t stopped talking about it, but to be honest with you, I think the last one was a little better, if that’s okay to say.” 

Kurt laughed, feeling light in a way he hadn’t in a long time. Though the Andersons weren’t related to him, they definitely were a part of his family. 

They crowded around Blaine, who had joined them, and Kurt took a step back to allow them their moment. 

He’d already intruded enough, and he really needed a moment to collect himself.

Because _—_ what in the actual _fuck_ had almost happened?

They’d had a moment. A moment. A _moment._

Kurt had thought they’d had moments before, times he’d thought if only one of them had been brave enough, they’d have _been_ something, but nothing like this. Nothing remotely close to this. Had this been _the_ moment?

…And he was starting to freak out. 

He tried to not let it show, and the Andersons were clearly in their own bubble too much to notice, but _God what happened_?

More importantly, what _would_ have happened, had Cooper not barged in? What would they have walked into if they’d taken just a few seconds longer to get to the door?

“ _—_ and it’s like I always said,” Cooper was saying, loud enough to bring Kurt out of his head, “I really always thought that whenever we were here, when this happened, it would be Kurt on the other end of the aisle, you know?”

Kurt’s jaw dropped, and somewhere in his mind he registered Blaine’s eyes widening just a bit too much, but the laughter from the rest of the family covered it all up smoothly. Blaine joined in a half-second too late, his laugh so fake Kurt didn’t know how Cooper didn’t notice, but Kurt just cleared his throat. 

“I’ll, uh… I’ll leave you all to it!” he squeaked out.

Pam turned towards him, a big smile on her face. “See you in there, Kurt!”

He didn’t correct her, slipping out the door before anything else could be said. 

* * *

Kurt thanked every deity he could think of that there was a bench in the hallway between the rooms where both ceremonies would be taking place. 

Forty minutes had passed since Kurt slipped out of Blaine’s suite and down the corridors, sinking down onto the bench in the hall. What had been a noisy hustle and bustle when he arrived was now eerily silent, the calm before the storm. Soon, guests would start arriving, picking a ceremony, giving Kurt pitiful looks as they walked past him. 

And he just felt stuck in the middle, pulled in both directions, with no easy answer and no way out. 

It was just like Santana said _—_ he couldn’t go to Blaine’s ceremony without hurting Rachel, he couldn’t go to Rachel’s ceremony without hurting Blaine. And he couldn’t go to Blaine’s ceremony without breaking his own heart.

And it didn’t matter whatever _moment_ they maybe shared. Blaine was still less than an hour away from getting _married_. 

Guests started trickling in _—_ teachers from Blaine’s school, friends from Rachel’s law class, Jessie’s incredibly buttoned up extended family, Jeremiah’s fratty friends, April Rhodes in a ridiculously vibrant and skin-tight hot pick ensemble, Rachel’s old best friend from the McKinley debate team. They waved at Kurt, giving small smiles as they went this and that way, making it exceedingly clear that yes, this was happening. This nightmare scenario was coming to fruition. 

Then their closer friends started arriving, congregating in the hall and splitting off in their decided and pre-established assignments. Sam, Tina and her boyfriend went one way, Brittany and Quinn went the other, Mercedes and her boyfriend hesitated before marching through their assigned ceremony, and so on and so forth. Santana stopped and squeezed Kurt’s shoulder for a few moments, before grabbing her girlfriend’s hand and continuing on her way. 

And Kurt just sat there, almost numb, his mind racing but not really processing anything. 

He could hear the sounds of Rachel’s harpist tuning her instrument, and Blaine’s pianist trying out a few notes on his keyboard leaking out into the hallway, and strangely enough they made up the chaotic music that was happening inside his head, with his thoughts dancing along.

Kurt had been spending the past few months dancing along the deadline, hoping someone would change their minds, or something would fall through, that he’d never get to this moment. 

And as the music got louder, as he watched the minutes tick by, as his heart beat faster and faster, all Kurt could see was how he had been dancing with his hands tied this entire time, being put through his paces, so sure he could take it _—_ but here he was, the lights were going out, the room was burning down. And all he could really do was sit with this bad feeling in his chest, the satin ribbon burning a hole in his pocket, out of time. 

He couldn’t fix it. 

* * *

The Andersons walked past him, nodding their heads as they passed by. Then Rachel’s bridesmaids, the flower girl and Elliot filed in, crowding around the edges of the door. Ken Tenaka stomped by, standing at the edge of the other entrance. 

Kurt took a deep breath. Barely minutes now.

He heard Hiram and LeRoy before he saw them, murmuring in comforting tones things he couldn’t quite make out. 

And then both of them were in full view, Blaine and Rachel, walking down opposite ends of the hallway, forced to meet in the middle before splitting in their separate ways.

And in the middle was Kurt, too.

He had expected the tension to rise the closer the two got, but it somehow seemed to dissipate. Like the past few months had been like holding in this huge breath, and now it was slowly exhaling. 

Kurt stood, and Elliot poked his head in the ceremony hall to signal the harpist to begin. The flower girl and bridesmaids trickled in slowly, in a practiced fashion. 

Ken Tenaka disappeared next, apparently having forgotten he wasn’t marching and rushing his way to the front. 

The Berrys kissed Rachel’s cheeks and left her for a moment, going to stand by the doors, clearly seeing she needed a moment.

And then there were three.

Kurt looked between the both of them, and reached for them. He squeezed their hands, sighed, and took a step back, dropping all pretense.

And he watched as Blaine and Rachel smiled at each other for the first time in months. Small, downcast smiles full of regret, but also some sort of closure. 

Like despite everything, it could all be okay.

Kurt’s heart sighed.

Rachel turned, linking arms with her dads as she prepared to march, and Blaine did the same. They took a few deep breaths, and, with Kurt behind them, still standing in the middle of the hallway, took the first step towards the rest of their lives.

_“Yeah you got that yuuuummy-yum, that yuuummy-yum, that yummy-yummy…”_

Kurt’s eyes widened at the sound, the absolute _trash_ blaring out from Blaine’s hall. 

“Oh, that is _it_!” Blaine yelled.

And before Kurt could react, Blaine had crossed the short hall and ripped Rachel out of her dads’ arms, tackling her to the floor with a soft thud.

Rachel’s yelp, along with the clinking of her bracelets and Blaine’s cufflinks in the ensuing struggle must have been loud enough, because questioning noises and gasps came from both halls as family members crowded around the doorways to watch the ridiculous scuffle happening right at Kurt’s feet.

Kurt could faintly hear Sue Sylvester yelling at one of her assistants, but he was too mesmerized by the grown adults rolling around on the floor, pulling and slapping and flailing like fish out of water. It truly looked like something out of a TV show, with the amount of fabric flowing around from the skirt of Rachel’s dress, the pathetic excuse that passed for _Grammy-nominated music_ still blaring from the other room, and the grunts and squeals the two were letting out from the floor. 

Kurt hadn’t seen a fight like this since they were toddlers. It truly brought Kurt back to every dumb scuffle they had when they were kids, rolling around the Berry’s basement because Blaine demanded another turn on the karaoke machine, or a kicky fight in the Anderson’s living room because Rachel ripped the limbs off Blaine’s favorite teddy bear by accident again. They never fought at the Hummel home, first because Elizabeth was terrifying when she raised her voice, and then out of respect for Burt and his ability to make them feel so shameful for knocking over pillows, but the fights were still legendary. They were infrequent enough to be memorable when they happened, a mess of screams and hair pulling, kicks and bruises, and Rachel always went home with her dress askew and hair out of its now lopsided bow, Blaine’s shirts always with some sort of rip. Kurt always refused to get in the middle, and he truly didn’t care enough about anything to start a _fight_ over it, but he suspected Blaine and Rachel actually _bonded_ over them. 

But this? God, there were better ways to work this out. 

In a flash, Jessie was at his side, looking helpless and like he wanted to jump in and stop them, but Kurt extended his arm across the groom’s chest. “Just… let them at it, let them get it out of their system,” he sighed.

The other groom, however, stood at the very front of the pack of spectators crowded at the door from their hall, with just _the_ most annoyed look on his face.

Jeremiah didn’t look concerned for his fiancé, for Blaine’s wellbeing or emotional state, worried over whatever led him to _tackle_ someone like it was some sick game of flag football – he just stood there, looking so _embarrassed_. 

Which, yeah, Kurt understood that, Blaine and Rachel looked absolutely _ridiculous_ rolling around on the floor of the fucking _Plaza Hotel_ while Justin Bieber’s trash single _Yummy_ played, it _was_ an embarrassing spectacle to behold. 

But this didn’t just happen, this had been building for months. This wasn’t a toddler throwing a tantrum in a McDonald’s playground because their happy meal toy wasn’t the one they wanted _—_ even if, to an outsider, it looked that way. 

But Jeremiah wasn’t an outsider. 

There were murmurs from the crowd, and unsurprisingly, everywhere Kurt looked, someone was trying to catch his eye, to ask him what to do. And what could he possibly say? Everyone in attendance, everyone crowded around the hall _knew_ Blaine and Rachel, knew how mature and sensible and reasonable these two adults were. The image of them rolling around the marble floor, yelling obscenities at each other, it didn’t fit. 

“YOU DYED MY HAIR ORANGE!” Blaine yelled, his voice muffled under Rachel’s hair. 

Kurt winced. Half the people in attendance didn’t know about the attempted (and frankly childish) sabotage from both parties, and it was very clear from the confused faces he saw when he glanced back up. Ronald Anderson sent him a look, mouthing, “What is he talking about?” Kurt rolled his eyes, waving it away. No need for them to know.

“YOU TOLD EVERYONE I WAS PREGNANT!” 

“WELL, AT LEAST YOU DON’T HAVE TO BUY ALL THE BABY STUFF NOW, RIGHT?”

Kurt took a deep breath, almost relaxing into the arm Jessie placed on his back. Yeah, apparently he needed the comfort. 

Because the flurry of emotions running through him was exhausting, in a different way than he’d expected and prepared for. 

God, fuck, Kurt was _tired._ Even though he hadn’t been directly involved, it had been extremely upsetting, watching them endlessly fight, go for each other’s weaknesses, poke at each other’s low spots. Most of all, it hurt how they seemed to have no regard for how this affected everyone else around them. And as he watched them pummel each other to the ground, throw punches and kicks and slaps, pull at hair and fabric, yell obscenities and scream accusations, he started to tear up. He shouldn’t have been surprised that this is what everything came down to, this childish squabble that started because neither of them could bend. And in a way, he really wasn’t. This had really been the most primal way they’d solved their problems as kids, and found ways that amounted to fighting as they got older _—_ arm wrestling, that semester they both took kickboxing and “practiced” with each other, passive aggressive jabs that ended with overly aggressive pillow fights that Kurt refereed, because if not, someone would get seriously hurt. 

He was just flabbergasted that they were so unabashed about it. Screams and yelps, tugging at fabric and hair _—_ it was all the stuff of toddlers. And yet here they were, in front of every wedding guest, which included friends and coworkers, stooping down to physical violence over something that could have been resolved in a closed-door conversation. 

Kurt shook his head. He couldn’t see how they could ever go back to their friendship again. Not after this. 

Eventually, Rachel and Blaine stopped struggling against each other, having tired themselves out. Rachel’s veil was askew, and underneath, her hair was an absolute mess. They were laying on their backs, facing the ceiling, tears tracking down their faces. Thank fuck for waterproof mascara, at least. From what Kurt could see, one of the buttons on Blaine’s tuxedo jacket had popped off, and his boutonniere was absolutely ruined. 

But the looks on their faces – they looked absolutely devastated. And shocked, and a little bit ashamed. And timid. 

And relieved. 

Kurt cleared his throat, intending to disperse the crowd and step in when _—_

Rachel started giggling uncontrollably. “I am _—_ god, I’m just so fucking _sorry_ ,” she gasped out. 

“ _I’m_ sorry! I started this, I just _—_ fuck,” Blaine rushed out. 

Everything else melted away to the sounds of them _finally_ talking to each other, finally apologizing, finally being friends again. 

Kurt extended an arm out to each of them with the intention of hoisting them back up, but they giggled and pulled him down, and he landed facedown, giggling uncontrollably like the other two, squarely in between them, Rachel’s thigh and Blaine’s bicep cushioning his fall. 

No words were necessary as Kurt ran his fingers though Rachel’s hair, brushing it out of her face and thumbing the tears away, or as he gently unpinned Blaine’s boutonniere from his lapel, their smiles were enough. 

There was so much that didn’t need to be said, because even in tuxes and gowns, in this hilariously fancy space, surrounded by successful friends and family all dressed to the nines, and even Sue fucking Sylvester, they really were just those three kids that dreamed of songs and blue ribbon and weddings at the Plaza. 

Jessie approached them and leaned down to give Rachel a hand, clearing his throat. She smiled up at him and gratefully accepted his hand, pulling herself to her feet just a little unsteadily _—_ but at least her heels hadn’t broken off. Jessie kissed her cheek and adjusted her veil, an absolutely adoring look on his face as he watched her adjust the skirt of her gown.

Jeremiah hadn’t moved from the doorway. It didn’t look like he intended to, either.

Kurt pushed himself up and extended his arm for Blaine to take.

Once off the floor, Blaine whispered a heartfelt, “Thank you.” Kurt had a feeling it was for more than just the arm.

Then he turned his look to Jeremiah, and in a quiet but forceful voice said, “Let’s talk,” pointing towards a corner in the corridor. 

Jeremiah gave a terse nod and sauntered over, Blaine following a few steps behind. 

Rachel rushed over to Kurt, clutching onto his elbow for dear life. Jessie joined them on Kurt’s other side, throwing his arm over Kurt’s back _—_ and while Kurt had never been his biggest fan, he felt a rush of affection towards Jessie, supporting and accepting him like this, like an extension of Rachel’s family, an inevitability. And the way Jessie adored Rachel, Kurt could see it more clearly than ever before.

The three clutched each other as they _—_ and the majority of the guests of both weddings _—_ watched as Blaine and Jeremiah exchanged a few words, and then watched in silence as Blaine took his ring off and placed it in his now ex-fiance’s palm. He leaned forward to seemingly give Jeremiah a last kiss on the cheek, but the taller man winced, taking a step back. Blaine shrugged, looking just a little bit defeated, and turned away, walking towards everyone else.

Kurt’s heart was pounding in his chest. The rush from the past few minutes was finally wearing off, but the lump in his throat, the accelerated beating of his heart just wouldn’t go away. 

Because he was so proud of Blaine, for actually standing up for himself, for being truthful to who he was and what he wanted, and for actually changing his life, no matter the fallout. God, Kurt loved him so much. 

Blaine practically melted into Kurt’s arms the moment he was within reach, like he always had. Like it was where he was meant to be. Rachel and Jessie held him, too, rubbing circles into his back and squeezing him at every shuddering breath he took. Kurt distantly noticed some of the crowd dissipating, some of Jeremiah’s friends trickling out of the hall and moving towards him, the scuffle of shoes loud against the silence, now that the fetid song had finally run its course. 

Kurt sniffled and took a step back, breaking the hug. He cleared his throat a bit, took in a shuddering breath, and pulled the tattered but beautiful blue ribbon out of his pocket, almost but not quite the color of his eyes.

Rachel gasped, and Blaine’s eyes immediately brimmed over with tears. Jessie awkwardly slipped away, seeming to sense this was a moment for just the three of them, and ushered the guests from both weddings away. 

“You kept it?” Rachel whispered.

Kurt nodded, holding it gingerly in the palm of his hand. “My mom did, in a dresser all those years. Dad sent it, before… everything. He knew you guys would want it, I just _—_ I didn’t think it should take sides, you know?”

Blaine nodded numbly, and slowly took it from Kurt’s hand, the tips of his fingers barely brushing against Kurt’s palm. 

He looked at Rachel, a clear question in his eyes. 

Tears pooled in hers, and she nodded, a radiant smile bursting through. She lifted her right arm, offering her wrist, the bracelet from Shelby sliding down, glinting in the light. Blaine tied the ribbon around her wrist, so it sat right beneath the bracelet, and squeezed her hand. 

They looked perfect. 

Sue Sylvester cleared her throat rather loudly, a plea to get their attention. But her eyes were a little watery. 

“Though I assume one wedding will not be happening, we’re still about fifteen minutes behind schedule, so… if you please, let’s get a move on, Miss Berry,” she said, motioning with her hands for them to, well, get a move on. 

Rachel gasped out a laugh, “Yes, Miss Sylvester, we’ll be ready to start in a moment.”

Jessie squeezed Rachel’s shoulder on his way into their hall, a skip in his step, clearly eager to get married. 

Santana, Tina and Mercedes had taken to ushering all interested parties into Rachel’s hall, leaving only a few behind: Jeremiah’s friends, the few family members that had chosen to fly out, some of Blaine’s younger cousins, who seemed more excited at the prospect of doing some touristing, and April Rhodes, followed closely by Ken Tenaka, who had her lipstick all over his face.

The Andersons hugged Blaine as they crossed the hallway, trading hellos with the Berrys as they entered. Cooper gave Rachel a big wet kiss on the cheek, because of course he did.

Soon enough, the only people left in the hallway were Hiram and LeRoy, and Kurt, Rachel and Blaine.

Kurt leaned down to pick up Rachel’s bouquet from where it had flown after Blaine tackled her, thankfully mostly intact, and handed it to her. 

“Thank you guys,” she said, her voice a little wet. “Thanks for being my family.”

Kurt and Blaine gave her a kiss on each cheek. “We’ll see you inside.”

* * *

The Streisandettes were given ample time to set up in Rachel’s reception hall after a handful of Sue Sylvester’s assistants were given the task of breaking down Blaine’s reception, with a few key exceptions. 

So Rachel’s reception now had double the appetizers, double the open bar, her favorite band, and three cakes. And all her favorite people. 

The dinner had been eaten, the cake had been cut, the first dance had been beautiful, the speeches had been given (and Elliot had happily given his slot to an impromptu speech from Kurt and Blaine, which left not a dry eye in the house), and all that was left was the dancing. Kurt, Rachel and Blaine leaned by the wall, taking it all in. She had done well by herself, beautiful centerpieces, a wonderful three-course meal, the decor gleaming beautifully under the chandeliers _—_ it truly was everything she had dreamed up since she was six years old.

“What do you think? It _was_ a no-expense-spared affair, after all,” Kurt started, grinning over at Rachel.

“The live band’s always nice, it’s a shame it was such a hassle to get it,” she laughed, tipping her drink over at Blaine, who’s cheeks turned bright red.

“I still think the fondue tower was a bit tacky,” Blaine started shyly. “But that’s just me.”

“Now you know the groom insisted, can’t hold that against the bride,” Kurt said, squeezing Rachel’s shoulder. She nodded, giggling. 

“Verdict?”

“Well, it’s definitely a Sue Sylvester wedding at the Plaza,” Blaine sighed. 

“And a beautiful one at that. 12/10, no question,” Kurt finished.

From her spot in the middle, Rachel pulled her best friends into a hug, crushing them to her in a way she hadn’t in a very long time. Kurt noted that she wasn’t shaking, she wasn’t emotional, she was just… she seemed at peace. 

“This is going to sound super shitty to say, but… well, while I really _am_ incredibly sorry for everything that happened, I’m just really glad it led us here, you know?” Rachel said quietly, voice muffled from hitting the boys’ jackets. 

“Ditto,” Blaine said. 

“I’m mostly just disappointed I didn’t get to plan a wedding,” Kurt laughed out. 

And just like that, the moment dissipated. It was all they needed, really. To know everything was forgiven, and everything would be okay. Maybe not the same, and that was fine, but definitely okay. 

Jessie approached them slowly, in a way that a year ago Kurt would have thought was creepy but now just saw as cautious _—_ Jessie wasn’t trying to interrupt their time or inject himself into their friendship, he was trying to find a way in. Kurt nodded at him, motioning him over, and Jessie looked fucking delighted. 

“Evening guys,” he nodded at Kurt and Blaine. “Evening, Mrs. Berry-St. James.”

“Oh, I didn’t know you guys were hyphenating!” Blaine said.

“We’re not! He’s just being silly,” Rachel supplied, joy all over her face as she pulled her husband in for a quick kiss. 

“Well, Mrs. Berry-St. James,” Jessie repeated, “I was just wondering if I could steal you away?”

She giggled, and they stepped off, almost floating towards the dance floor. Kurt sighed happily and made his way towards the bar. 

Though the band was playing a cover of _Mr. Brightside_ and everyone around her danced like they were in a mosh pit, Kurt watched as Rachel swayed on the dance floor, wrapped around Jessie, looking so in love Kurt felt like he was intruding. It really had been worth it after all. 

He stood at the bar, a champagne flute in hand, surveying the scene. Santana caught his eye from the dance floor, winking as she spun her girlfriend around, and he laughed. 

She had been right, all along. Not really through his own means, but he _had_ figured something out in the end. Now all that was left was figuring out where to go from there. 

Kurt felt Blaine lean against him before he saw him, the slight weight of him against his shoulder, the smell of him intoxicating. 

The band ended the song with a bang, before announcing they’d be slowing down a bit, beginning the first chords to Taylor Swift’s _Lover_. 

“I know you’re usually pretty reserved at these,” Blaine started quietly, “but… could I have this dance?”

A sunny glow warmed his heart, his cheeks flushing. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”


	8. Epilogue - It's gravity keeping you with me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's the end! we're at the end! sorry it's a little on the short side, but also not sorry because i feel like it's just right. 
> 
> and as always, thanks to Aly and EJ for your amazing support, your memes, and your friendship. and every single yeah boiiiiiii. 
> 
> enjoy!

**Epilogue**

“It’s gravity keeping you with me”

Easing into a relationship felt easier than breathing. 

And as it turned out, Kurt had been wrong about everything. Every fantasy he’d indulged about what a relationship with Blaine could be like had been absolutely off-base.

The reality blew it all out of the water. 

Blaine was loving and gentle in ways Kurt had always known, in ways Kurt had anticipated, of course. He prepared Kurt’s favorite dinners, he was a wonderful and patient listener, he indulged in yelling at the reality TV shows Kurt enjoyed, and his backrubs were legendary. But he was also thoughtful and detailed in ways that surprised Kurt, like the flowers every week, always a different arrangement and always with a poem, or the way he memorized the exact way Kurt divided his laundry, the consistently adoring Good Morning texts, and the way he so implicitly trusted Kurt with everything. And Blaine was so devoted to him, Kurt’s heart felt like bursting half the time. 

They’d lived together for a few years during and after college, and so Kurt knew Blaine liked breakfast first thing in the morning, knew he arranged his shoes at the front, by the door, knew he organized his shirts by color in order of sleeve length, knew he pressed his pants every morning before leaving. 

What he had never seen and absolutely loved learning was what Blaine looked like in the quiet moments after waking up, and how he could not sleep without flannel pajama pants and needed firm pillows or he’d toss and turn all night, how he had to give Kurt a kiss on the cheek before getting out of bed, or else he couldn’t start his day. 

It seemed like every day he learned something new about Blaine, a new surprise about how he liked to be held, the way he preferred to be coddled on lazy Sunday mornings, how Blaine encouraged Kurt to call him out when he was being too much of a doormat. 

He also learned about the things he  _ didn’t  _ like about Blaine that he hadn’t quite seen before, things he’d never worried about until he thought about the romantic implications _—_ like how indecisive he was about where to eat, how quiet he could be in an argument, how defensive he got when he was uncomfortable. 

It was never a dealbreaker for Kurt.

Jeremiah moved out of Blaine’s apartment swiftly, and after a week of redecorating, it was like he’d never been there. Kurt knew moving the couch and hanging a few frames wouldn’t erase three years of Blaine’s life, but it was a start. 

And the way they christened the newly-replaced bed spread certainly was, as well.

* * *

There were picnics at Central Park until it got too cold, ice skating at Bryant Park and Rockefeller Center, tickets to fashion galas where Blaine got compliments on his bowties, evening recitals where Kurt cheered Blaine’s choir students, movie nights and coffee dates in the mornings, and they were almost inseparable. 

When it came time for Blaine to renew his lease, three months in, he shyly asked if, well,  _ “We live so far away, we’re spending almost every night together, and — and half my closet is already at your place, I — I don’t want to pressure you, I know you like your space, but I wanted to — I mean, only if you’re okay with me maybe asking, about like — if I…” _

_ “Yes, Blaine?” _

_ “…I’d like to move in with you.” _

Kurt had worried it was too fast, everything was too fresh, had promised they would take it at Blaine’s pace, let him take the lead. The steps they’d already taken were so major _—_ ending an engagement and almost immediately dating, intense in that they knew each other so well so the buffer of a first date’s awkwardness wasn’t there, but also light in that  _ because _ they knew each other, they could read so easily when the other was overwhelmed. They didn’t need to have a Talk, they knew it would all be okay. 

Kurt just had spent so long hoping against hope, and pushing down the hope, that Blaine could ever love him the way he wanted, he was doing everything possible to not mess this up. 

* * *

They kept it a secret for as long as they could. Mostly because they were in a  _ very _ private love bubble and Rachel’s honeymoon had been extended, and then she’d had a gruelingly long and arduous trial right after, but it really seemed like nobody cared. 

They spent Thanksgiving with Rachel and Jessie, a quiet affair during which she squealed and hugged them and popped champagne and gifted them a couples’ massage at her favorite spa. 

Christmas was, in a lot of ways, the same as in past years but also very different than others. Burt hugged Blaine for a very long time, and Carole cooed over him, making his favorite pie and including him in their family PJ tradition for Christmas Eve. The Andersons gave a very dignified toast, very pleased and proud of the two men, and were completely diplomatic about the way things happened, until Cooper heard that Blaine had ended his lease and moved into Kurt’s and jokingly called him a homewrecker. 

Blaine ardently defended Kurt there, red in the face, until he realized Cooper’s drink was coming out of his nose from how hard he was laughing. He let it slide.

New Year’s was a quiet affair _—_ Kurt’s apartment had a decently sized tub, so they lit candles and lay there, in warm water, sipping champagne, trading chocolate covered strawberries and kisses, until the clock struck twelve and they could hear the fireworks and cheers from the streets.

* * *

The newness of the relationship faded, but the magic never did. Sure, it was soon, but Kurt had observed Blaine in his previous relationships, had seen how he would settle into a new pair of arms, how he’d seem less happy after the first three months, how he’d be more reserved as he tried to mold himself to what his partner wanted.

He’d been looking for those telltale signs from the moment their lips touched. 

Kurt saw the opposite. Blaine was more confident, more sure of himself in how he spoke, how he carried himself, how he advocated for himself and even got a promotion at the start of the new semester. Even how he introduced himself to Kurt’s coworkers at their first cocktail hour of the year. Blaine was more himself, more comfortable, melting into Kurt’s arms, kissing him, laughing with him over the silliest things, completely unaware of how alluring and endearing he was, how he made Kurt’s heart constrict in his chest.

He was sure he wasn’t imagining it, and after a trio dinner with Rachel, he was absolutely sure. 

Rachel pulled Kurt closer the moment Blaine stepped away, going to the restroom before they paid their tab. 

“Kurt, this is the happiest I’ve ever seen him,” she started. “He’s _—_ I don’t know how to explain it, but he’s so exuberant and like, radiating happiness. I’ve never seen him like this before.”

Kurt could only blush in return.

* * *

Blaine proposed after six months. 

They did end up having an October wedding at the Plaza, three short years after Rachel’s. I, Sue Sylvester planned it, of course.

* * *

I watched as Rachel, hugely pregnant and glowing with happiness, stood at the front of the hall, smiling at the intimate congregation of guests in attendance. Closest friends and family, not a single dry eye, nor anyone who hadn’t expected this day to come.

She stood in the raised center of the small room, brushing a tear out of her eye as the pianist played the opening notes of  _ I Can’t Help Falling In Love.  _

Blaine walked first, in an exquisitely tailored suit he had picked out from the Vogue vault (courtesy of Isabelle, of course), a slight blush to his cheeks. He stopped right in front of Rachel, leaning to shake Burt’s hand and receive a kiss on the cheek from Carole, and then took a few steps forward until he stood just to Rachel’s right, turning his face back to the doorway. 

As Kurt stepped forward, everyone could see he was radiating joy, almost visibly glowing. He took his steps slowly, deliberately, surely, like Blaine was the only thing in the world he was completely certain of.

And in a way, he was.

Pam squeezed his hand as he passed her before taking his spot at Rachel’s left, beaming at the man across from him as the pianist finished off the last notes.

Rachel smiled widely again, then cleared her throat. Jessie flashed her a wink from across the room, giving her an encouraging thumbs up.

“We are gathered here today to celebrate the union of one Kurt Hummel and one Blaine Anderson in marriage.”

* * *

Their dream weddings had always been pretty different _—_ Kurt’s was all marble and silver, live band and tasteful pale green carnations, with a three-tier cake and a salmon dinner. Blaine’s was more of a warm-toned affair, with maroons and golds, everyone he knew invited and a DJ who could play anything and everything he wanted. But in the end, they didn’t need a huge ballroom, hundreds of guests and gifts, or even that glamorous of an evening. 

And as Kurt held onto his husband, swaying to the music and touching foreheads where they could, Kurt knew all they really wanted was just each other. 


End file.
